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LIBRARY 

UNIvti  i  TY  OF 
CAiifORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


IVAN  TURGENIEFF 


Volume  VIII 


VIRGIN  SOIL 
PART  I 


THE  NOVELS  AND  STORIES  OF 
IVAN    TUKGENIEFF 


VIRGIN  SOIL 


PART  I 


TRANSLATED   FROM   THE    RUSSIAN    BY 
ISABEL   F.   HAPGOOD 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1904 


)nn 


Then  Ostrodiimoff  raised  the  paper  . 
burned  it  to  ashes. 


.  and 


THE  NOVELS  AND   STORIES  OF 
IVAN    TURGENIEFF 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

PART  I 


TRANSLATED   FROM   THE    RUSSIAN   BY 
ISABEL   F.  HAPGOOD 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1904 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
Charles   Scribxkr's   Sons 


PREFACE 

"  Virgin  Soil,"  TurgeniefF's  last  great  romance, 
was  published  in  1877,  beginning  in  the  January 
number  of  the  European  3Iessenger.  For  three 
years  previously  TurgeniefF  had  been  collecting 
materials,  in  Russia  and  abroad,  for  this  new 
novel,  which  was  consecrated  to  the  portraj^al  of 
the  "  new  men."  He  always  sedulously  followed 
up  all  new  phenomena  in  Russian  life,  and  the 
movement  "  to  the  people,"  which  made  its  ap- 
pearance at  the  beginning  of  the  '70s,  together 
with  the  socialistic  propaganda,  had  interested 
him  deeply  for  years. 

Like  "  Fathers  and  Children  "  and  "  Smoke," 
*'  Virgin  Soil,"  on  its  appearance,  instantly 
evoked  in  the  literary  world  and  still  more  in  the 
public  interminable  disputes,  the  subject  of  which 
was,  as  before,  the  author's  personal  attitude  to- 
ward the  topic  of  the  time  which  was  most  pal- 
pitating with  interest.  Many  of  the  judgments 
expressed  were  hostile  to  Turgenieff ,  so  that  once 
more  he  began  (as  he  had  already  done  thirteen 
or  fourteen  years  previously,  after  the  harsh  criti- 
cisms on  "Fathers  and  Children")  to  express 
a  decided  wish  to  abandon  his  literary  activity. 


PREFACE 

In  February,  1878,  in  response  to  a  request  from 
a  new  journal  in  Odessa  (The  Truth),  that  he 
would  send  something  for  publication,  he  cate- 
gorically refused,  adding:  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  public  has  no  claim  on  you.  And  any  claims 
can  hardly  be  taken  seriously,  judging  by  the 
reception  accorded  to  my  last  works.  But  be 
that  as  it  may,  /  have  laid  down  my  pen  and  shall 
never  talx-e  it  up  again."  To  this  date,  in  all 
probability,  belongs  one  of  the  "Poems  in  Prose," 
which  begins  with  Pushkin's  words:  "  Thou  shalt 
hear  the  judgment  of  the  dullard,"  ....  and 
capitally  expresses  the  mood  of  the  author's 
grief -stung  soul. 

During  the  ten  years  which  had  elapsed  since 
the  publication  of  "  Smoke,"  the  critics  and  the 
public  in  general  had  been  rather  cold  toward 
TurgeniefF.  He  wrote  no  great  romance  during 
that  period,  but  the  short  stories  which  he  sent 
with  great  regularity  to  the  journals  would  have 
aroused  enthusiasm  had  the}"  been  from  any  other 
pen.  They  included,  among  others,  that  gem, 
"  A  King  Lear  of  the  Steppes."  He  had  not 
visited  Russia  during  that  period,  although  it  had 
previousl)^  been  his  custom  to  return  thither  al- 
most annually.  The  attacks  of  gout  from  which 
he  suffered  grew  increasingly  violent,  and  he 
lived  in  Paris,  Baden,  or  with  the  Viardots  near 
Paris.  This  long-continued  absence  furnished 
the  hostile  critics  with  a  plausible  excuse  for  as- 

vi 


PREFACE 

serting"  that  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  talking 
about. 

"  Virgin  Soil "  did  not  make  a  great  impres- 
sion on  the  reading  public,  and  people  began  to 
say  not  only  that  he  did  not  know  the  new  Russia, 
but  that  his  powers  were  exhausted.  They  had 
said  the  same  thing  about  all  the  other  great 
writers  in  their  day.  The  true  explanation  of 
these  comments  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that 
this  book  is  even  more  cheerless  than  "  Smoke," 
its  predecessor,  more  devoid  of  faith.  It  con- 
tains no  energetic  person  like  Potugin,  while  its 
hero,  jSTezhdanoiF,  is  even  more  lacking  in  vitality 
than  LitvinolF.  The  heroic  strain  is  exhausted  in 
Russian  life,  and  the  poet  is  not,  of  course,  re- 
sponsible, says  one  critic,  if  his  new  works  are 
devoid  of  the  breathless  interest  of  his  former 
writings. 

TurgenieiF,  as  we  know,  divided  people  in  gen- 
eral into  two  grand  classes — the  Hamlets  and  the 
Don  Quixotes.  NezhdanofF  falls  into  the  Ham- 
let class,  the  class  of  the  weak.  The  author  em- 
ployed a  great  deal  of  tenderness  and  warmth 
of  feeling  in  delineating  these  weak  men  with 
double  aims,  who  appear  so  often  as  his  heroes. 
Nezhdanoff  has  three  distinct  lines  of  interest — 
his  love  for  Marianna,  his  literary  aspirations, 
and  his  revolutionary  activity.  But  he  is  pure 
and  sincere.  He  forms  the  centre  of  a  group  of 
people  who,  imlike  himself,  are  strong  of  will 

vii 


PREFACE 

and  strong  in  faith,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
markably ill-endowed  mentallj^  narrow,  dull — 
downright  blockheads.  Against  that  grey  back- 
ground Nezhdanoff  stands  out  in  clear,  bright 
relief.  He  was  a  transitory  type  which  replaced 
Bazaroif  and,  unlike  the  latter,  did  not  look  down 
with  haughty  condescension  on,  but  passionately 
hastened  to  embrace,  the  peasant  who,  on  his 
side,  remained  distrustful  and  repelled  advances. 

The  man  who  voluntarily  surrenders  himself 
to  the  superior  woman  is  a  favorite  theme  with 
Turgenieff,  and  he  had  already  exploited  it  in 
"  Asya,"  "  Riidin,"  "  Smoke,"  and  other  works, 
before  he  created  Nezhdanoff  on  the  same  lines. 
INIarianna  herself  is  another  of  his  brilliant  por- 
traits of  Russian  women,  according  to  some  crit- 
ics; according  to  others,  the  least  successful  of 
all  his  feminine  figures,  in  whom  he  vainly  exerts 
all  his  efforts  to  interest  the  reader. 

Some  interesting  comments  are  contained  in  a 
letter  from  Turgenieff,  dated  at  Paris,  January 
22,  1877,  and  addressed  to  YakofF  Petrovitch 
Polonsky,  the  poet : 

"  Dear  Y.  P.,  I  am  delighted  that  the  cause  of  thy 
silence  was  the  bad  condition  of  thy  ink ;  for  I  was  begin- 
ning to  think  that  the  failure  of  '  Virgin  Soil '  (the  first 
part),  of  which  I  have  been  informed  from  various  quar- 
ters, had  turned  out  to  be  so  great  that  thou,  out  of 

•  •  • 

VUl 


PREFACE 

friendship  toward  me,  couldst  not  make  up  thy  mind  to 
write. — I  fully  agree  with  many  of  thy  remarks  (espe- 
cially as  to  the  ill-judged  chapter  about  Fomushka  and 
Fimushka, — it  was  a  whim  of  mine — I  recalled  just  such 
a  little  old  couple,  whom  I  had  once  known)  ;  only  I 
beg  thee  to  reserve  thy  definitive  criticism  until  the 
second  part  shall  appear. — I  tried  in  every  possible  way 
to  persuade  Stasiulevitch  ^  not  to  break  up  the  romance, 
but  unfortunately,  I  failed. 

"  It  is  thy  opinion  that  in  '  Virgin  Soil,'  effort,  super- 
fluous mental  toil,  and  a  certain  timidity  are  perceptible 
.  .  .  .  perhaps  that  is  so;  I  will  make  only  one  obser- 
vation,— that  not  a  single  one  of  my  large  works  was 
written  so  quickly,  so  easily  (in  three  months), — and 
with  so  few  erasures.  Judge  for  thyself  after  that!  — 
(The  idea  had  long  been  revolving  in  my  head,  I  had 
several  times  started  to  carry  it  out — but  at  last  I 
wrote  the  whole  piece  straight  from  the  shoulder,  as  the 
saying  is.)  And  it  turns  out  that  one  can  know  no- 
thing in  advance. 

"  In  any  case — and  whatever  decisive  opinion  the 
public  may  form — this  is,  of  course,  my  last  work.  It 
is  enough!  .... 

"  I  took  the  letter  S.  to  indicate  the  town  as  I  might 
have  taken  A.  B., — or  even  X. ; —  and  was  not  thinking 
in  the  least  of  Simbirsk  or  Samara. 

"  Thou   sayest   that  the   young   men   are   not    fully 

sketched; — I  know  not  what  I  could  add  to  MarkelofF 

and  NezhdanofF; — but  the  principal  hero  of  the  romance, 

Solomin,  only  makes  his  appearance  in  the  second  part." 

^The  editor  of  the  European  Messenger.  —  Teanslatoe. 

ix 


PREFACE 

In  another  letter  to  Polonsky,  dated  February 
18,  TurgeniefF  writes: 

"  There  was  a  time  when  I  begged  permission  of  thee 
not  to  mention  T  .  .  again; — now  I  make  the  same 
request  with  regard  to  '  Virgin  Soil.' — Whatever  may  be 
its  final  fate,  this  is  my  last  independent  literary  work : 
this  decision  of  mine  is  irrevocable: — my  name  shall 
never  appear  again.  I  would  have  liked  to  have  my 
last  word  meet  with  a  more  indulgent  reception ;  but  that 
it  is  the  last,  thou  mayest  cherish  as  little  doubt  as  of 
....  well,  as  of  my  friendship  for  thee. — And  nothing 
more  is  to  be  said  about  it." 

To  another  friend,  I.  I.  MasloiF,  he  writes 
under  date  of  March  5,  1877: 

"  I  thank  thee  for  thy  comment  on  the  second  part 
of  my  romance,  and  on  '  Virgin  Soil '  in  general ;  it  de- 
lighted me  all  the  more  because  I  have  never  been  sub- 
jected to  such  universal  censure  in  the  journals. — How- 
ever, that  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past  for  me,  as  I  am 
fairly  determined  to  write  no  more,  to  throw  aside  my 
pen,  which  has  served  me  for  more  than  thirty  years ; — 
it  is  high  time  for  the  veterans  to  resign.' 


5> 


He  did  not  resign,  however. 

I.  F.  H. 


X 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

(1876) 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

PART  FIRST, 


"  Virgin  soil  should  be  broken  up  not  with  the  primitive  plough, 
which  skims  along  the  surface,  but  with  the  modern  plough,  which 
cuts  deep."— -FVoOT  the  Note-book  of  a  Proprietor-Agriculturist. 

IN  the  spring  of  1868,  about  one  o'clock  in  the 
day,  a  man  of  about  seven  and  twenty  years 
of  age,  carelessly  and  poorly  clad,  was  ascending 
the  back  stairs  of  a  five-story  house  on  Officers 
Street  in  Petersburg.  Clumping  heavily  with 
his  patched  overshoes,  slowly  swaying  his  heavy, 
awkward  body,  this  man  at  last  reached  the  very 
top  of  the  staircase,  halted  in  front  of  a  broken, 
half -open  door— and,  without  ringing  the  bell, 
but  merely  heaving  a  noisy  sigh,  precipitated 
himself  into  the  small,  dark  vestibule. 

"  Is  NezhdanoiF  at  home?  "—he  shouted,  in  a 
thick,  loud  voice. 

"  No,  he  is  not— I  am  here;  come  in,"— rang 
out  a  feminine  voice,  which  was  also  decidedly 
harsh,  from  the  adjoining  room. 

"Miss  Mashurin?  "—queried  the  newcomer. 

"  The  very  person.— And  you  are  Ostrodii- 
moff  ? " 

S 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"Pimen  OstrodumofF,"— replied  the  man; 
and  having  first  carefully  removed  his  overshoes, 
and  then  hung  his  little  old  cloak  on  a  nail,  he 
entered  the  room  whence  the  woman's  voice  had 
proceeded. 

Low-ceiled,  squalid,  its  walls  covered  with 
paper  of  a  muddy-green  hue,  this  room  was 
scantily  lighted  by  two  small,  dusty  windows. 
The  only  furniture  it  contained  was  an  iron  bed- 
stead in  one  corner,  a  table  in  the  centre,  a  few 
chairs,  and  a  set  of  shelves  piled  with  books.— 
By  the  table  sat  a  woman  thirty  years  of  age,  her 
hair  devoid  of  covering,  in  a  black  woollen  gown, 
smoking  a  cigarette.  When  she  saw  Ostrodii- 
mofF  enter,  she  silently  offered  him  her  broad, 
red  hand.  He  shook  it,  as  silently,— and,  drop- 
ping into  a  chair,  pulled  a  half-smoked  cigar  from 
his  side  pocket.  Miss  Mashurin  gave  him  a  light, 
—he  began  to  smoke,  and  the  two,  without 
uttering  a  word,  without  even  exchanging  a 
glance,  set  to  emitting  wreaths  of  bluish  smoke 
into  the  dim  air  of  the  room,  which,  without  that 
addition,  was  already  sufficiently  permeated  with 
it. 

The  two  smokers  had  something  in  common, 
although  they  did  not  resemble  each  other  in 
features.  These  slovenly  figures,  with  their  big 
lips,  teeth,  and  noses  (OstrodiimofF  was  pock- 
marked, to  boot),  were  expressive  of  something 
honourable,  steadfast,  and  hard-working. 

4 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Have  you  seen  Nezhdanoff  ?  "—asked  Os- 
trodumofF,  at  last. 

"  Yes ;  he  will  be  here  directly.  He  has  gone 
to  the  library  with  some  books." 

Ostrodumoff  spat  to  one  side. 

"  Why  has  he  taken  to  running  about  con- 
stantly?    One  can  never  catch  him." 

3Iiss  Mashiirin  got  herself  another  cigarette. 

"  He  is  bored,"— she  said,  as  she  carefully 
lighted  it. 

"  Bored!  "—repeated  OstrodumoiF,  reproach- 
fully.— "Here's  self-indulgence  for  you!  One 
would  suppose  that  he  had  no  occupations  in  com- 
mon with  us.  Here,  God  willing,  we  are  getting 
matters  in  hand,  in  proper  fashion,— but  he  is 
bored! " 

"  Has  the  letter  from  INIoscow  arrived?  " — 
asked  Miss  Mashiirin,  after  a  brief  pause. 

"  Yes  ....  day  before  yesterday." 

"  Have  j^ou  read  it  ?  " 

Ostrodumoif  merely  nodded. 

"  Well  ....  and  what  does  it  say?  " 

"What  does  it  say?— we  shall  have  to  go 
soon." 

]\Iiss  INIashurin  took  the  cigarette  out  of  her 
mouth. — "Why  so?  Everything  is  going  well 
there,  I  hear." 

"  Things  are  taking  their  course.  Only  one 
man  has  proved  himself  to  be  untrustworthy^ 
So  .  .  .  he  must  be  removed,  if  not  got  rid  of  al- 

5 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

together.    And  there  are  other  matters  as  well.— 
You  are  summoned." 

"  In  the  letter?  " 

"Yes;  in  the  letter." 

"Well,  all  right!"— she  ejaculated:— "  if  the 
order  is  issued— there  's  no  occasion  for  argu- 
ment!" 

"  Of  course  not.  Only,  without  money,  it  is 
absolutely  impossible ;  and  where  are  we  to  get  it, 
that  same  money? " 

Miss  Mashurin  meditated. 

"  NezhdanofF  must  procure  it,"— she  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  as  though  speaking  to  herself. 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  came  for," — re- 
marked OstrodiimofF. 

"  Have  you  the  letter  with  you?  "  suddenly 
inquired  Miss  Mashurin. 

"  Yes.    Would  you  like  to  read  it?  " 

*'  Give  it  to  me  ...  or,  no,  it  is  unnecessary. 
We  will  read  it  together  .  .  .  later." 

"  I  am  telling  you  the  truth," — grumbled 
OstrodiimofF:— "  you  need  have  no  doubts." 

"  I  have  none." 

And  again  both  relapsed  into  silence,  and,  as 
before,  only  wreaths  of  smoke  escaped  from  their 
speechless  lips,  and  rose,  in  faint  undulations, 
above  their  frousy  heads. 

The  clumping  of  overshoes  resounded  in  the 
anteroom. 

"  There  he  is!  "—whispered  Miss  Mashurin. 

6 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

The  door  opened  a  little,  and  through  the  inter- 
stice a  head  was  thrust — only,  it  was  not  Nezhda- 
noiF's  head. 

It  was  a  small,  round  head,  with  stiff  black 
hair,  a  broad,  furrowed  brow,  small,  very  viva- 
cious brown  eyes  beneath  thick  brows,  with  an 
upturned  nose  resembling  a  duck's  bill,  and  a 
small,  rosy,  comically-formed  mouth.  This  head 
took  a  survey,  nodded,  laughed, — incidentally 
displayed  a  multitude  of  tiny,  white  teeth, — and 
entered  the  room  along  with  its  puny,  ugly  body 
with  short  arms  and  somewhat  crooked,  some- 
what lame  little  legs.  And  no  sooner  did  Miss 
Mashiirin  and  Ostrodiimoff  espy  that  small 
head,  than  both  expressed  upon  their  counte- 
nances something  in  the  nature  of  condescending 
scorn,  exactly  as  though  each  of  them  inwardly 
ejaculated:  "Ah!  that  fellow!"— and  they  ut- 
tered not  a  single  word;  they  did  not  even  move. 
But  the  reception  accorded  to  him  not  only  did 
not  disconcert  the  newly-arrived  visitor,  but,  ap- 
parently, afforded  him  a  certain  satisfaction. 

"  What  doth  this  signify?  " — he  said,  in  a 
squeaking  voice. — "A  duet?  Why  not  a  trio? 
And  where  's  the  leading  tenor?  " 

*'  Are  you  inquiring  about  Mr.  NezhdanofF, 
Mr.  Pakhlin?" — rejoined  OstrodiimofF,  with  a 
serious  mien. 

"Exactly  so,  Mr.  Ostrodumoff;  about  him." 

7 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  In  all  probability  he  will  be  here  soon,  Mr. 
Pakhlin." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  Mr.  OstrodumofF." 

The  lame  little  man  turned  to  Miss  Mashurin. 
She  was  sitting  with  her  brows  contracted  in  a 
frown,  and  continued,  in  a  leisurely  manner,  to 
puff  at  her  cigarette. 

"  How  is  your  health,  my  dearest ....  dearest. 
.  .  .  Well,  now,  how  annoying!  I  am  always 
forgetting  how  to  address  you  by  your  name  and 
patronymic ! " 

Miss  Mashurin  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  And  it  is  quite  unnecessary  that  you  should 
know!  ^ly  surname  is  known  to  you.  What 
more  do  you  require! — And  what  sort  of  a  ques- 
tion is  that — '  How  is  your  health? ' — Cannot 
you  see  that  I  am  alive? " 

"Perfectly,  perfectly  correct!" — exclaimed 
Pakhlin,  inflating  his  nostrils  and  twitching  his 
eyebrows: — "if  you  were  not  alive,  your  most 
humble  servant  would  not  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  here  and  conversing  with  you! — 
Ascribe  my  inquiry  to  an  inveterate  bad  habit. 
And  now,  as  to  the  name  and  patronymic.  .  . 
Do  you  know,  it 's  awkward,  somehow,  to  say 
'  Mashurina  '  ^  straight  out !  I  am  aware,  it  is 
true,  that  you  never  sign  your  letters  otherwise 

1  It  is  permissible  to  allude  to  a  woman  by  the  feminine  form  of 
her  family  name,  without  any  prefix  whatever.  But  this  form — which 
Turgenieif  uses  throughout  for  this  character — is  awkward  in  Eng- 
lish. — Teanslatoe. 

8 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

than  '  Bonaparte '!— I  mean  to  say,  '  Masliu- 
rina'  !— But,  all  the  same,  in  conversation  .  .  .  ." 

"  But  who  asked  you  to  converse  with  me?  " 

Paklilin  began  to  laugh  in  a  nervous  way,  as 
though  he  were  choking. 

"  Come,  that  will  do,  my  dear;  my  sweet  little 
dove,  give  me  your  hand ;  don't  get  angry,  for  I 
know  that  you  are  extremely  good-natured,  and 
so  am  I.  .  .  Well?  .  .  .  ." 

Paklilin  extended  his  hand.  .  .  .  Miss  Mashurin 
stared  gloomily  at  him — but  she  gave  him  her 
hand,  nevertheless. 

"If  it  is  imperatively  necessary  for  you  to 
know  my  name,"— said  she,  still  with  the  same 
gloomy  aspect—"  so  be  it:  my  name  is  Thekla." 

"  And  mine  is  Pimen,"  added  OstrodumofF,  in 
a  bass  voice. 

"  Akh!  that  is  very  ....  very  edifying!  But, 
in  that  case,  tell  me,  oh,  Thekla!  and  you,  oh, 
Pimen!  tell  me,  why  you  both  treat  me  in  so 
hostile,  so  persistently-hostile  a  manner,  wliile 
I         " 

"  Miss  Mashurin  thinks,"— interi-upted  Ostro- 
dumofF,—" that,  as  you  look  at  everything  from 
its  ridiculous  side,  it  is  not  possible  to  rely  upon 

you.'' 

Pakhlin  twirled  abruptly  round  on  his  heels. 

"  There  it  is;  that 's  the  perpetual  mistake  of 
people  who  condemn  me,  most  respected  Pimen: 
In  the  first  place,  I  am  not  always  laughing ;  and, 

9 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

in  the  second  place,  that  does  not  prevent  the 
possibility  of  relying  upon  me,  which  is  proved 
by  the  flattering  confidence  which  I  have  more 
than  once  enjoyed  in  your  own  ranks!  I  am  a 
man  of  honour,  most  respected  Pimen!  " 

OstrodiimofF  muttered  something  between  his 
teeth,  while  Pakhlin  nodded  his  head,  and  re- 
peated, this  time  without  the  shadow  of  a  smile: 

"  No!  I  am  not  always  laughing!  I  am  not 
at  all  a  jolly  man!    Just  look  at  me!  " 

Ostrodiimoff  looked  at  him.— As  a  matter  of 
fact,  when  Pakhlin  was  not  laughing,  when  he 
was  silent,  his  face  assumed  an  almost  dejected, 
almost  frightened  expression ;  it  became  amusing, 
and  even  malicious,  as  soon  as  he  opened  his 
mouth.    But  OstrodumofF  made  no  comment. 

Again  Pakhlin  addressed  himself  to  Miss 
Mashiirin. 

"  Well,  and  how  are  your  studies  progressing? 
Are  you  making  a  success  in  your  truly  humane 
art?  'T  is  a  difficult  job,  it  strikes  me— to  aid  an 
inexperienced  citizen  at  his  first  entrance  into 
God's  world." 

"  'T  is  nothing;  there  is  no  difficulty  if  he  is  not 
much  bigger  in  size  than  you," — retorted  Miss 
Mashiirin,  who  had  just  passed  her  examinations 
as  a  midwife, — and  she  indulged  in  a  self-satis- 
fied smile.  A  year  and  a  half  previously,  aban- 
doning her  family,  a  family  of  gentry  in  the 
south  of  Russia,  she  had  come  to  Petersburg 

10 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

with  six  rubles  in  her  pocket;  she  had  entered 
an  obstetrical  institution,  and  by  dint  of  inces- 
sant toil,  she  had  obtained  the  coveted  certificate. 
She  was  a  virgin,  ....  and  a  very  chaste  virgin. 
"  That  is  nothing  remarkable!  "  some  sceptic  will 
say,  recalling  what  has  been  said  about  her  per- 
sonal appearance.  It  is  remarkable  and  rare!  we 
permit  ourselves  to  remark. 

On  hearing  her  retort,  Pakhlin  again  burst 
out  laughing. 

"You're  a  gallant  fellow,  my  dear!" — he 
exclaimed. — "  You  have  reprimanded  me  splen- 
didly! I  deserved  it!  Why  have  I  remained 
such  a  dwarf?  But  where  has  our  host  vanished 
to?" 

It  was  not  without  a  purpose  that  Pakhlin 
changed  the  conversation.  He  could  not  reconcile 
himself  to  his  tiny  stature,  with  his  ill-favoured 
figure  as  a  whole.  He  was  the  more  sensitive  on 
that  point  because  he  was  passionately  fond  of 
women.  What  would  not  he  have  given  to  find 
favour  in  their  sight!  The  consciousness  of  his 
miserable  exterior  preyed  upon  him  far  more 
than  his  insignificant  extraction,  than  his  unen- 
viable social  position.  Pakhlin's  father  was  a 
plain  burgher,  who  had  served  through  all  sorts 
of  iniquities  up  to  the  rank  of  Titular  Councillor, 
a  cunning  intermediary  in  lawsuits,  a  speculator. 
He  had  managed  estates  and  houses,  and  so  had 
acquired   a   little   money;   but   he   had   become 

11 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

strongly  addicted  to  drink  toward  the  end  of  his 
life,  and  had  left  nothing  after  his  death.  Young 
Pakhlin  (his  name  was  Sila  ....  Sila  Samsonitch^ 
—which,  also,  he  regarded  as  a  jeer  at  himself) 
had  been  educated  in  a  Commercial  school, 
where  he  had  learned  the  German  language  capi- 
tally. After  various  decidedly  heavy  trials  he 
had  at  last  obtained  a  position  in  a  private 
counting-house,  at  a  salary  of  fifteen  hundred 
rubles  a  year.  On  this  money  he  maintained 
himself,  his  invalid  aunt,  and  his  hunchbacked 
sister.  At  the  time  of  our  story  he  had  just 
entered  his  twenty-eighth  year.  Pakhlin  was 
acquainted  with  a  multitude  of  students,  young 
men  who  liked  him  because  of  his  cynical  vi- 
vacity, the  merry  bitterness  of  his  self-confident 
speeches,  his  one-sided,  far  from  indubitable 
learning,  devoid  of  pedantry.  Only  now  and 
then  did  he  suffer  at  their  hands.     Once  he  was 

late  at  a  political  gathering On  entering,  he 

immediately  began  to  make  hurried  excuses.  .  .  . 
"  Pakhlin  poor  is  chicken-hearted,"— some  one  in 
the  corner  began  to  chant,— and  all  burst  out 
laughing.  Pakhlin  at  last  began  to  laugh  him- 
self, although  his  heart  ached.  "  He  has  spoken 
the  truth,  the  rascal!" — he  thought  to  himself. 
He  had  made  acquaintance  with  Nezhdanoff 
at   a    Greek    eating-house,    whither   he    was    in 

1  That  is,  "Strong,  son  of  Samson."— Tea kslator. 

12 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

the  habit  of  going  to  dine,  and  where  he  occa- 
sionally gave  expression  to  extremely  free 
and  harsh  opinions.  He  asserted  that  the  chief 
cause  of  his  democratic  frame  of  mind  was 
the  bad  Greek  cookery,  which  irritated  his 
liver. 

"  Yes  ....  just  so  ...  .  what  has  become  of 
our  host?  " — repeated  Pakhlin. — "  I  notice  that, 
for  some  time  past,  he  has  been  in  low  spirits. 
Can  it  be  that  he  is  in  love — God  forbid!  " 

Miss  Mashurin  frov\^ned. 

"  He  went  to  the  library  for  books,— and  he 
has  no  time  to  fall  in  love,  and  no  one  to  fall  in 
love  with." 

"  And  how  about  you?  "  came  near  bursting 
from  Paldilin's  lips. 

"  I  wish  to  see  him," — he  said  aloud, — "  be- 
cause I  must  have  a  talk  with  him  about  an  im- 
portant affair." 

"  What  affair?  " — interposed  Ostrodiimoff. — 
"Our  cause?" 

"  Perhaps  it  is  your  cause  ....  that  is  to  say, 
our  cause  in  general." 

Ostrodumoff  snorted.  In  his  secret  soul  he 
doubted,  but  he  immediately  thought:  "  But  the 
devil  only  knows!    He  's  such  a  sly  dog!  " 

"  Here  he  comes  at  last," — said  Miss  Mashurin, 
suddenly,— and  in  her  small,  ugly  eyes,  riveted 
on  the  door  of  the  anteroom,  there  rose  a  certain 

13 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

warm  and  tender  flash,  a  certain  bright,  deep, 
inward  spark. 

The  door  opened,  and  this  time,  with  cap  on 
head  and  a  bundle  of  books  under  his  arm,  there 
entered  a  young  man  of  twenty -three — Nezhda- 
noff  himself. 


II 

At  the  sight  of  the  visitors  in  his  room,  he  halted 
on  the  threshold,  scanned  them  all,  flung  aside 
his  cap,  dropped  his  books  straight  on  the  floor, 
and  going  to  the  bed,  he  perched  himself  on  its 
edge,  without  uttering  a  word.  His  handsome, 
white  face,  which  seemed  still  whiter  from  the 
dark-red  hue  of  his  waving  chestnut  hair,  ex- 
pressed displeasure  and  vexation. 

Miss  Mashiirin  turned  slightly  away  and  bit 
her  lip;  OstrodiimofF  muttered: 

"At  last!" 

Pakhlin  was  the  first  to  approach  NezhdanofF. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  thee,  Alexyei  Dmi- 
trievitch,  the  Russian  Hamlet?  Has  any  one 
vexed  thee?  Or  hast  thou  just  got  down  in  the 
mouth — without  any  cause?" 

"  Please  stop,  thou  Russian  Mephistopheles," 
— replied  NezhdanofF,  irritably. — "  I  'm  not  in 
the  mood  to  vie  with  thee  in  flat  witticisms." 

Pakhlin  burst  into  a  laugh: 

"  Thou  expressest  thyself  inaccurately:  if  it 's 
witty,  it 's  not  flat ;  if  it 's  flat,  it 's  not  witty." 

"  Well,  very  good,  very  good.  .  .  Thou  art  a 
wit,  everybody  knows  that." 

15 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  And  thou  art  in  a  nervous  condition," — 
ejaculated  Pakhlin,  in  jerks. — "  Has  something 
actually  happened?  " 

"Nothing  in  particular  has  happened; — but 
it  has  come  to  pass  that  you  can't  put  your  nose 
into  the  street  in  this  detestable  town,  in  Peters- 
burg, without  running  up  against  some  triviality, 
some  stupidity,  some  outrageous  injustice,  some 
nonsense  or  other !  It 's  impossible  to  live  here 
any  longer." 

"  That 's  exactly  why  thou  hast  published  in 
the  newspapers  that  thou  wouldst  like  a  place  as 
private  tutor,  and  wert  willing  to  leave  town," — 
muttered  OstrodiimofF  again. 

"  Of  course;  with  the  greatest  pleasure  I  will 
go  away  from  here!  If  I  could  only  iind  a  fool 
who  would  offer  me  a  place!  " 

"  First  thou  must  discharge  thy  obligations 
here"— said  Miss  Mashurin,  significantly,  with- 
out ceasing  to  gaze  to  one  side. 

"  That  is  to  say? " — inquired  Nezhdanoff, 
turning  abruptly  round  toward  her.  Miss  Ma- 
shurin compressed  her  lips. 

"  OstrodumofF  will  tell  you." 

Nezhdanoff  turned  to  Ostrodumoff .  But  the 
latter  merely  grunted  and  cleared  his  throat, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  wait  a  bit." 

"  Yes,  without  jesting,  as  an  actual  fact," — in- 
terposed Pakhlin:—"  thou  hast  heard  something, 
something  unpleasant! " 

16 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Nezhdanoif  sprang  up  from  the  bed,  as  though 
something  had  exploded  beneath  him. 

"  What  other  unpleasantness  would  you 
have?"— he  shouted  suddenly,  in  a  ringing 
voice.—"  Half  Russia  is  dying  of  hunger.  The 
Moscow  News  is  triumphing,  they  want  to  in- 
troduce classical  studies,  they  are  prohibiting 
student  funds,  everywhere  there  is  espionage, 
oppression,  tale-bearing,  lying  and  falsehood— 
we  cannot  take  a  step  in  any  direction  .  .  .  and 
that  is  not  enough  for  him,  he  still  expects  a  fresh 
unpleasantness;  he  thinks  that  I  am  jesting  .... 
BasanofF  has  been  arrested,"— he  added,  lower- 
ing his  voice  somewhat: — "they  told  me  at  the 
library." 

OstrodiimofF  and  Miss  Mashiirin  raised  their 
heads  simultaneously. 

"  Dear  friend  Alexyei  Dmitrievitch,"— be- 
gan Paklilin,— "  thou  art  excited— which  is  easily 
comprehensible  ....  but  hast  thou  forgotten  in 
what  age,  and  in  what  country  we  live?— For, 
with  us,  the  drowning  man  must  himself  fabri- 
cate the  straw  at  which  he  is  obliged  to  clutch!— 
Where  's  the  chance  to  be  sentimental  under  such 
circimistances?  We  must  learn,  brother,  how  to 
look  the  devil  straight  in  the  eye,  and  not  get 
angry,  like  children.  ..." 

"  Akh,  please,  please  stop  that!  "—interrupted 
NezhdanofF,  sadly,  and  he  even  knit  his  brows, 
as  though   in   pain.—"  Thou   art   an   energetic 

17 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

man,  every  one  knows  that,— thou  fearest  nothing 
and  no  one.  .  .  ." 

"  I  fear  no  one,  don't  I?"— PakliHn  was  be- 
ginning  

"  But  who  could  have  betrayed  Basanoff  ? " 
—went  on  Nezhdanoff,— "  I  do  not  under- 
stand!" 

"  A  friend,— of  course.— That 's  what  those 
fine  fellows— friends— are  for.  Be  on  your 
guard  with  them!  For  instance,— I  had  a  friend, 
and  he  seemed  to  be  a  fine  man :  he  was  so  anxious 
for  me,  for  my  reputation !  You  see,  this  is  what 
he  used  to  do :  he  would  come  to  me :....'  Just 
imagine,'  he  would  cry:  'what  stupid  calumny 
about  you  has  been  disseminated:  people  de- 
clare that  you  poisoned  your  own  uncle, — that 
you  were  introduced  into  a  certain  house,  and 
you  immediately  sat  down  with  your  back  to  the 
hostess— and  sat  so  throughout  the  evening! 
And  she  wept,  wept  with  the  affront.- Such 
nonsense,  you  know!  such  folly!  What  fools 
could  believe  it?  '—and  what  happened?  A  year 
later  I  quarrelled  with  that  same  friend.  .  .  And 
he  wrote  to  me,  in  his  farewell  letter :  '  You,  who 
put  your  uncle  to  death!— you,  who  were  not 
ashamed  to  insult  a  respectable  lady,  by  sitting 
with  your  back  to  her ! '  .  .  .  and  so  forth,  and 
so  on. — That's  what  friends  are  like!" 

Ostrodumoff  exchanged  glances  with  Miss 
Mashiirin. 

18 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Alexyei  Dmitrievitch !  " — he  clashed  out  in 
his  heavy  bass  voice:  he  was  obviously  desirous 
of  putting  a  stop  to  the  eruption  of  words  which 
had  begun:  "  a  letter  from  Vasily  Nikolaitch  has 
arrived  from  Moscow." 

NezhdanofF  shuddered  slightly,  and  dropped 
his  eyes. 

"  What  does  he  write?  " — he  asked  at  last. 

"  Why,  here we  and  she  " — Ostro- 

diimofF  indicated  ]Miss  Mashiirin  with  his  eye- 
brows—  "must  go." 

"  What? — she  is  summoned  also?  " 

"  Yes,  she  also." 

"  What  stands  in  the  way?  " 

*'  'T  is  plain  enough  what  ....  't  is  a  ques- 
tion of  money." 

Nezhdanoff  rose  from  the  bed  and  walked  to 
the  window. 

"  Is  much  needed?  " 

"  Fifty  rubles  ....  Nothing  less  will  do." 

NezhdanofF  said  nothing. 

"  I  have  none  at  present,"  he  whispered  at 
last,  as  he  drummed  on  the  glass  with  his  fingers, 
— "  but  ...  I  can  get  some.  Hast  thou  the 
letter?  " 

"  The  letter?    It  .  .  .  yes,  I  have  it of 

course " 

"But  why  do  you  conceal  everything  from 
me?  " — exclaimed  Pakhlin.  — "  Am  I  not  worthy 
of  your  confidence? — Even  if  I  were  not  in  com- 

19 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

plete  sympathy  .  .  .  with  that  which  you  are  un- 
dertaking,— do  you  suppose  that  I  am  capable 
of  betraying  or  blabbing?  " 

"  Unintentionally  ....  you  might," — rumbled 
OstrodumofF,  in  his  bass  voice. 

"Neither  intentionally  nor  unintentionally! — 
There  is  Miss  JNIashurin  staring  at  me  and  smil- 
ing ....  but  I  will  tell  you " 

"  I  'm  not  smiling  at  all,"— said  Miss  Ma- 
shiirin,  angrily. 

"  But  I  will  tell  you,"— went  on  Pakhlin,— 
"  that  you,  gentlemen,  have  not  a  fine  scent ;  that 
you  don't  know  how  to  distinguish  who  are  your 
true  friends!  A  man  laughs,  and  you  think  he 
is  not  serious  .  .  .  ." 

"  And  is  n't  that  so,  pray?  "—said  Miss  Ma- 
shiirin,  still  angrily. 

"  Here,  now,  for  instance," — resumed  Pakhlin, 
with  fresh  force,  this  time  not  even  replying  to 
Miss  Mashurin — "  you  are  in  need  of  money  .  .  . 
and  A^ezhdanoff  has  none  at  present  ....  But  I 
can  give  it." 

NezhdanofF  turned  round  hastily  from  the 
window. 

"  No  .  .  .  no  .  .  .  why  should  you?  I  will  get 
it  ....  I  will  get  a  part  of  my  allowance  in  ad- 
vance   It  occurs  to  my  memory  that  they 

are  in  debt  to  me.  But  see  here,  Ostrodumoff , 
show  us  that  letter." 

At  first  Ostrodumoif  remained  impassive  for 

20 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

some  time;  then  he  glanced  around  him;  then 
he  rose,  bent  his  whole  body  forward,  and  pulling 
up  his  trousers,  he  drew  a  carefully-folded  scrap 
of  blue  paper  out  of  the  leg  of  his  boot;  as  he 
drew  it  out  he  blew  upon  it,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  and  handed  it  to  Nezhdanoff . 

The  latter  took  the  paper,  unfolded  it,  read  it 
through  with  care,  and  gave  it  to  Miss  ^lashiirin. 
.  .  .  The  latter  first  rose  from  her  chair,  then  read 
it  also,  and  returned  the  paper  to  Nezhdanoff , 
although  Pakhlin  stretched  out  his  hand  for  it. 
NezhdanofF  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  handed 
the  mj^sterious  letter  to  Pakhlin.  Pakhlin,  in  his 
turn,  ran  his  eyes  over  the  paper,  and  pursing  up 
his  lips  with  great  significance,  solemnly  and 
softlv  laid  it  on  the  table.  Then  OstrodiimofF 
took  it,  lighted  a  large  match,  which  dissemi- 
nated a  powerful  odour  of  sulphur,  and  having 
first  raised  the  paper  high  above  his  head,  as 
though  he  were  exhibiting  it  to  all  present, 
burned  it  to  ashes  on  the  match,  not  sparing  his 
own  fingers,  and  flung  the  ashes  into  the  stove. 
No  one  uttered  a  word,  no  one  even  moved  dur- 
ing the  course  of  this  operation.  The  eyes  of  all 
present  were  fixed  on  the  floor.  Ostrodumofl* 
wore  a  concentrated  and  business-like  aspect, 
NezhdanofF's  face  seemed  malignant,  but  Pakli- 
lin  displayed  an  effort;  Miss  Mashurin  seemed 
to  be  celebrating  some  service  of  worship. 

Two  minutes  passed  thus.  .  .  Then  all  felt 

21 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

rather  awkward.  Pakhlin  was  the  first  to  feel 
the  necessity  of  breaking  the  silence. 

"  Well,  how  is  it  to  be?  "—he  began:—"  Is  my 
sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  the  fatherland  to  be  ac° 
cepted,  or  not?  Am  I  to  be  permitted  to  con- 
tribute, if  not  fifty,  at  least  twenty-five  or  thirty 
rubles  toward  the  common  enterprise?  " 

NezhdanofF  suddenly  flared  up.    It  seemed  as 

though  he  were  boihng  with  vexation The 

solemn  cremation  of  the  letter  had  not  decreased 
it,— it  had  only  been  awaiting  a  pretext  in  order 
to  burst  forth. 

"  I  have  already  told  thee  that  it  was  not  nec- 
essary, not  necessary.  .  .  not  necessary!  I  will 
not  allow  it,  I  will  not  accept  it.  I  will  get 
money,  I  will  get  it  immediately.  I  need  aid 
from  no  one! " 

"Well,  brother,"— said  Pakhlin,— "  I  per- 
ceive, although  thou  art  a  revolutionist,  thou  art 
not  a  democrat! " 

"  Say  it  straight  out,  that  I  am  an  aristocrat!  " 

"  Well,  thou  really  art  an  aristocrat  ....  to  a 
certain  degree." 

NezhdanoiF  emitted  a  constrained  laugh: 

"  That  is,  thou  wishest  to  hint  at  the  fact  that 
I  am  an  illegitimate  son.  Thou  art  wasting  thy 
pains  in  vain,  my  dear  fellow.  ...  I  do  not  forget 
it,  even  without  thy  reminding  me  of  it." 

Pakhlin  wrung  his  hands. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Alyosha,  what  is  the  mat- 

22 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

ter  with  thee?  How  canst  thou  put  such  a  con- 
struction on  my  words?  I  do  not  recognise  thee 
to-day." — Nezhdanoff  made  an  impatient  ges- 
ture with  his  head  and  shoulders.—"  BasanofF's 
arrest  has  put  thee  out  of  sorts ;  but,  seest  thou,  he 
behaved  himself  so  incautiously.  ..." 

"  He  did  not  conceal  his  convictions," — put  in 
Miss  INIashurin  gloomily: — "it  is  not  our  place 
to  condemn  him!  " 

"Yes;  only  he  ought  to  have  kept  in  mind, 
also,  his  friends,  whom  he  may  now  compromise." 

"  Why  do  you  assume  that  of  him?  .  .  ." 
rumbled  OstrodumofF,  in  his  turn:— "  Basanoif 
is  a  man  of  steadfast  character ;  he  will  not  betray 
any  one.  And  as  for  lack  of  caution  ....  do 
you  know  what?  Not  every  one  f)ossesses  the 
gift  of  being  cautious,  Mr.  Paklilin ! " 

Pakhlin  took  offence,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
retorting,  but  Nezhdanoff  stopped  him. 

"O  Lord!" — he  exclaimed, — "do  me  a  fa- 
vour: let 's  drop  politics  for  a  time." 

A  silence  ensued. 

"  I  met  Skoropikhin  to-day," — remarked 
Pakhlin,  at  last,—"  our  All-Russia  critic,  and 
(esthetic  and  enthusiast.  What  an  intolerable 
creature !  He  's  forever  seething  and  frothing, 
exactly  like  a  bottle  of  wretched  sour-cabbage 
beer  ....  The  waiter,  in  his  flight,  has  stuffed 
his  finger  into  it  in  place  of  the  cork;  a  fat 
raisin  has  got  stranded  in  the  neck, — it  keeps  on 

23 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

bubbling  and  hissing,— and  when  all  the  froth 
has  flown  out  of  it,  at  the  bottom  there  will  re- 
main at  most  a  few  drops  of  vile  liquid,  which  not 
only  slakes  no  one's  tliirst,  but  merely  causes  a 

colic A  very  deleterious  individual  for 

vounff  folks!  " 

The  comparison  employed  by  Pakhlin,  al- 
though true  and  accurate,  did  not  evoke  a  smile 
on  the  face  of  any  one.  OstrodiimofF  alone  re- 
marked that  there  was  no  need  to  pity  young 
folks  who  were  capable  of  taking  an  interest  in 
aesthetics,  even  if  Skoropikhin  did  lead  them 
astray. 

"But,  good  gracious,  stop!" — exclaimed  Pa- 
khlin with  heat;  the  less  sympathy  he  encoun- 
tered, the  more  fervent  did  he  become: — "  let  us 
assume  that  is  not  a  political  question,  but  still 
one  of  importance.  If  you  listen  to  Skoropikhin, 
every  ancient  artistic  production  is  good  for  no- 
thing, from  the  very  fact  that  it  is  ancient.  .  .  . 
But  in  that  case,  art,  the  arts  in  general,  are  no- 
thing but  a  fashion — and  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
talk  seriously  about  them.  If  there  is  nothing 
stable  about  them,  nothing  eternal, — then  the 
devil  take  them!  In  science,  in  mathematics,  for 
example:  you  do  not  consider  Euler,  Laplace, 
Gauss  as  antiquated  triflers?  You  are  ready  to 
recognise  their  authority,  but  Raphael  and  Mo- 
zart are  fools?  And  your  pride  rises  in  rebellion 
against  their  authority?     The  laws  of  art  are 

24 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

more  difficult  to  grasp  than  the  laws  of  science. 
...  I  agree,  but  they  exist;  and  he  who  does  not 
perceive  them  is  blind;  voluntarily  or  involun- 
tarily, it  makes  no  difference!  " 

Pakhlin  relapsed  into  silence  ....  and  no  one 
uttered  a  word,  just  as  though  they  had  all  filled 
their  mouths  with  water — as  though  they  w^ere 
all  rather  ashamed  of  him.  OstrodiimofF  alone 
muttered : 

"  And  nevertheless,  I  do  not  in  the  least  com- 
miserate those  young  people  whom  Skoropildiin 
leads  astray." 

"Well  now,  I  wash  my  hands  of  you!" 
thought  Pakhlin.     "I'm  going!" 

He  had  come  to  NezhdanofF  with  the  object 
of  imparting  to  him  his  ideas  concerning  the 
transmission  from  abroad  of  the  Polar  Star 
(the  Bell^  no  longer  existed) — but  the  con- 
versation had  taken  such  a  turn  that  it  was  bet- 
ter not  to  raise  that  question.  Paldilin  had  al- 
ready taken  up  his  hat,  when  suddenly,  without 
any  preliminary  noise  or  knock,  there  resounded 
from  the  anteroom  a  remarkably  agreeable, 
manly,  and  rich  baritone  voice,  the  very  sound 
of  which  exhaled  some  unusually  noble,  well-bred, 
and  even  fragrant  element. 

"  Is  Mr.  NezhdanofF  at  home? " 

"  Yes," — replied  NezhdanofF,  at  last. 

^  Alexander  Hertzen's  famous  revolutionary  journal,  published 
abroad  and  regularly  smuggled  into  Russia.  —  Traxslatou. 

V^6 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

The  door  opened  discreetly  and  smoothly,  and 
slowly  removing  a  shiny  hat  from  his  comely, 
closely-clipped  head,  a  man  about  forty  years 
of  age,  of  lofty  stature,  stately  and  majestic, 
entered  the  room.  Dressed  in  a  very  handsome 
cloth  paletot  with  a  beaver  collar,  although  the 
month  of  April  was  already  drawing  to  its  close 
— he  stunned  them  all,  NezhdanoiF,  Pakhlin, 
even  Miss  Mashiirin  .  .  .  even  Ostrodiimoff ! — 
with  the  elegant  self-confidence  of  his  carriage 
and  the  amiable  composure  of  his  greeting.  All 
involuntarily  rose  to  their  feet  on  his  appear- 
ance. 


26 


Ill 

The  elegant  man  approached  Nezhdanoff  and, 
with  a  benevolent  smile,  remarked:  "  I  have  al- 
ready had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you,  and 
even  of  conversing  with  you,  Mr.  Nezhdanoff, 
day  before  yesterday,  if  you  will  be  good  enough 
to  recall  it— in  the  theatre."  (The  visitor 
paused,  as  though  waiting;  Nezhdanoff  bowed 
his  head  slightly,  and  nodded.) —"  Yes!  .  .  . 
and  to-day  I  have  presented  myself  to  you 
in  consequence  of  the  advertisement  which  you 
put  in  the  newspapers.  I  should  like  to  have 
a  talk  with  you,  if  I  shall  not  be  in  the  way  of 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  present.  .  .  ."  (The 
visitor  bowed  to  Miss  Mashurin,  and  waved  his 
hand,  clad  in  a  greyish  glove  of  undressed  kid, 
in  the  direction  of  Paldilin  and  OstrodiimofF)  — 
"  and  if  I  do  not  disturb  them " 

"  No  ....  why  should  you?  .  .  .  ."  replied 
Nezhdanoff,  not  without  an  effort.—"  These  gen- 
tlemen will  permit ....  Will  you  not  be  seated?  " 

The  visitor  made  a  pleasant  inclination,  and 
amiably  grasping  the  back  of  a  chair,  drew  it 
toward  him,  but  did  not  sit  down, — as  every  one 
in  the  room  was  standing, — but  merely  cast  his 
brilliant  though  half -closed  eyes  around. 

27 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Good-bye,  Alexyei  Dmitritch,"— said  Miss 
Mashiirin  suddenly: — "I  will  come  in  later." 

"  So  will  I,"— added  Ostrodiimoff. — "  I  also 
....  will  see  you  later." 

Avoiding  the  visitor,  and  as  though  by  way  of 
defying  him.  Miss  JMashurin  grasped  Nezh- 
danofF's  hand,  gave  it  a  hearty  shake,  and  left  the 
room  without  bowing  to  any  one.  Ostrodumoff 
followed  her,  clumping  unnecessarily  with  his 
boots,  and  even  snorting  a  couple  of  times,  as 
much  as  to  say:  "  Take  that,  thou  beaver  collar!  " 
Tlie  visitor  followed  the  two  with  a  polite,  rather 
curious  glance.  Then  he  fixed  it  on  Pakhlin,  as 
though  expecting  that  he,  also,  would  follow  the 
example  of  the  two  visitors  who  had  withdrawn; 
but  Pakhlin,  on  whose  countenance,  from  the 
very  moment  of  the  visitor's  appearance,  a  pecu- 
liar, restrained  smile  had  dawned,  stepped  aside 
and  took  refuge  in  a  corner.  Then  the  visitor 
seated  himself  on  the  chair.  NezhdanofF  also 
sat  down. 

"My  name  is  Sipyagin;  perhaps  you  have 
heard  it," — began  the  visitor,  with  proud 
modesty. 

But  first  we  must  narrate  in  what  manner 
NezhdanofF  had  met  him  at  the  theatre. 

On  the  occasion  of  Sadovsky's  arrival  from 
]Moscow,  Ostrovsky's  play,  "  Shoemaker,  Stick 
to  Your  Last,"  ^  had  been  given.     The  part  of 

1  Literally,  "  Don't  seat  yourself  in  any  one's  sledge  but  your 

own . "  —  Tr  A  NSLATOR. 

28 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

RusakofF  was,  as  every  one  knows,  one  of  the 
famous  actor's  favourite  roles.  Before  dinner 
NezhdanofF  went  to  the  theatre  office,  where  he 
found  a  good  many  people  assembled.  He  was 
preparing  to  buy  a  ticket  for  the  pit; — but,  at  the 
moment  when  he  stepped  up  to  the  opening  of  the 
office,  an  officer  who  stood  behind  him  shouted  to 
the  ticket-seller,  pushing  three  rubles  over  Nezh- 
danoff's  head:  "Pie"  (meaning  NezhdanofF) 
"  will  probably  have  to  get  change — but  I  do 
not  need  it:— so  please  give  me,  as  quickly  as 
possible,  a  seat  in  the  first  row.  ...  I  'm  in  a 
hurry!" — "Excuse  me,  Mr.  Officer," — said 
NezhdanofF,  in  a  sharp  voice,—"  I  myself  wish 
to  buy  a  seat  in  the  first  row," — and  thereupon 
he  flung  into  the  little  window,  a  three-ruble 
note — his  entire  cash  capital.  The  ticket-seller 
gave  him  his  ticket;  and,  in  the  evening,  Nezh- 
danofF found  himself  in  the  aristocratic  section  of 
the  Alexandra  Theatre. 

He  was  badly  dressed,  devoid  of  gloves,  in 
unblacked  boots — he  felt  confused,  and  was 
vexed  with  himself  for  having  that  feeling.  Be- 
side him,  on  the  right,  sat  a  general,  besprinkled 
with  stars;— on  the  left,  that  same  elegant  gentle- 
man, Privy  Councillor  Sipyagin,  whose  appear- 
ance, two  days  later,  had  so  excited  Miss  Ma- 
shurin  and  OstrodumofF.  The  general  glanced  at 
NezhdanofF  from  time  to  time  as  at  something 
indecent,   unexpected,    and   even   insulting;    Si- 

29 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

pyagin,on  the  contrary,  cast  at  him  glances  which, 
although  sidelong,  were  not  hostile.— All  the 
persons  who  surrounded  NezhdanofF  seemed, 
in  the  first  place,  to  be  personages  rather  than 
persons;  in  the  second  place,  they  were  all  very 
well  acquainted  with  one  another,  and  exchanged 
brief  conversations,  remarks,  or  even  simple  ex- 
clamations and  greetings — some  of  them,  even, 
over  NezhdanofF's  head;  but  he  sat  motionless 
and  awkward  in  his  seat,— like  a  regular  pariah. 
He  felt  bitter  and  ashamed  and  wretched  in 
soul;  he  derived  very  little  enjoyment  from 
Ostrovsky's  comedy  and  from  Sadovsky's  act- 
ing. And,  all  at  once,  oh  marvel!  during  one  of 
the  intermissions  between  the  acts,  his  neighbour 
on  the  left — not  the  star-bestudded  general,  but 
the  other,  who  had  no  insignia  of  distinction  on 
his  breast — politely  and  softly  entered  into  con- 
versation with  him,  with  a  sort  of  insinuating 
condescension.  He  began  to  talk  about  Ostrov- 
sky's piece,  desiring  to  learn  from  NezhdanofF, — 
as  from  "  one  of  the  representatives  of  the  rising 
generation,"— what  was  his  opinion  regarding 
it.  Astounded,  almost  frightened,  Nezhdanoff 
answered  abruptly  and  in  monosyllables,  at  first 
....  his  heart  even  began  to  beat  violently;  but 
afterward,  he  was  vexed  with  himself;  why  was 
he  so  agitated  by  it?  Was  not  he  just  as  much 
of  a  man  as  all  the  rest  of  them?  And  he  began 
to  set  forth  his  opinion,  without  embarrassment, 

30 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

without  reserve,  and,  at  last,  so  loudly,  and  with 
such  enthusiasm,  that  he  evidently  disturbed  his 
star-bestudded  neighbour.  NezhdanofF  was  an 
ardent  admirer  of  Ostrovsky;— but,  notwith- 
standing all  his  respect  for  the  talent  displayed 
by  the  author  in  his  comedy,  "  Shoemaker,  Stick 
to  Your  Last,"  he  could  not  approve  of  the  very 
evident  desire  contained  therein,  to  ridicule  civili- 
sation in  the  caricatured  personage  VikhorefF. — 
His  courteous  neighbour  listened  to  him  with  at- 
tention, with  sjT^mpathy;  and,  at  the  following 
intermission,  he  again  entered  into  conversation 
with  him,  but  this  time  not  about  Ostrovsky's 
comedy,  but  in  a  general  way,  about  various 
worldl}',  scientific,  and  even  political  topics. 
Obviously,  he  was  interested  in  his  young  and 
eloquent  interlocutor.  Nezhdanoff,  as  before, 
not  only  did  not  stand  on  ceremony,  but  even  put 
on  more  steam,  as  the  expression  runs.  "  If  you 
ask  questions— here  goes!"  What  he  aroused 
in  his  neighbour  the  general  was  no  longer  mere 
uneasiness,  but  wrath  and  suspicion.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  play,  Sipyagin  bade  farewell 
to  Nezhdanoff  in  a  very  affectionate  manner — 
but  did  not  ask  his  name,  and  did  not  mention  his 
own.  While  waiting  for  his  carriage  on  the  stair- 
case, he  encountered  a  good  friend  of  his,  Im- 
perial-Adjutant Prince  G.— "  I  was  watching 
thee  from  my  box," — the  prince  said  to  him, 
laughing  lightly  through  his   perfumed  mous- 

31 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

tache:— "  dost  thou  know  with  whom  tliou  wert 
talldng?  "— "  No,  I  don't  know!  dost  thou?"— 
"  He  was  n't  a  stupid  young  fellow,  was  he, 
hey?  "_"  Very  far  from  stupid:  who  is  he?  "— 
Then  the  prince  bent  down  to  his  ear  and  whis- 
pered in  French:  —  "  JMy  brother.  Yes;  he  is  my 
brother.  He  is  my  father's  illegitimate  son  .  .  . 
he  is  called  NezhdanofF.  I  '11  tell  thee  about  it 
some  day.  .  .  .  My  father  did  not  expect  it  in 
the  least,  so  he  named  him  Nezhdc4nofF.^  But  he 
arranged  his  fate  for  him  .  .  .  il  lui  a  fait  un 
sort.  .  .  .  We  pay  him  a  pension.  That  young 
man  has  a  head  .  .  .  and,  by  my  father's  kind- 
ness, he  has  received  a  good  education.  Only 
he  has  got  entirely  off  the  track ;  he  's  a  republi- 
can, or  something  of  that  sort.  .  .  .  We  do  not 
receive  him.  .  .  .  II  est  impossible!  But  good- 
bye, they  are  calling  my  carriage."— The  prince 
departed,  and  on  the  following  day  Sipyagin 
read  in  the  Police  News  the  advertisement  which 
Nezhdanoff  had  inserted— and  went  to  him.  .  .  . 
"  ^ly  name  is  Sipyagin,"— he  said  to  Nezhda- 
nofF, as  he  sat  in  front  of  him  on  a  straw-bot- 
tomed chair,  and  surveyed  him  with  his  impres- 
sive gaze:— "I  learned  from  the  nev/spapers 
that  you  wish  to  secure  a  place  as  tutor,  and  I 
have  come  to  you  with  the  following  proposition. 
I  am  married;  I  have  one  son— nine  years  of 
agCc    The  boy  is  extremely  gifted— I  will  say  that 

1  "The  Unexpected."— Translatoe. 

32 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

frankly.  We  spend  the  greater  part  of  the 
summer  and  autumn  in  the  country,  in  the  Gov- 
ernment of  S.  .  .  .  ,  five  miles  from  the  govern 
mental  capital.  So  here  now:  would  you  like 
to  go  thitlier  with  us  for  the  vacation,  to  teach  my 
son  the  Russian  language  and  history — the  sub- 
jects which  you  mention  in  your  advertisement? 
I  venture  to  think  that  j^ou  will  be  satisfied  with 
me,  with  my  family,  and  with  the  location  of  my 
manor-house.  There  is  a  very  fine  park,  a 
river,  good  air,  a  spacious  house.  .  .  .  Do  you 
accept?  In  that  case,  all  that  remains  is  to  in- 
quire your  terms,  although  I  do  not  suppose," — 
added  Sipj^agin  with  a  slight  grimace, — "  that 
any  difficulties  will  arise  between  us  on  that 
score." 

All  the  while  that  Sipyagin  w^as  talking 
NezhdanofF  stared  intently  at  him,  at  his  small 
head,  which  was  thrown  somewhat  backward,  at 
his  low,  narrow,  but  intelligent  brow,  his  thin, 
Roman  nose,  his  pleasant  eyes,  his  regular  lips, 
from  which  the  gracious  speech  flowed  smoothly^ 
at  his  long  side-wiiiskers,  which  drooped  after 
the  English  fashion — stared  and  wondered. — 
"What  's  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  thought. 
"  Why  is  this  man  fairly  paying  court  to  me? 
This  aristocrat — and  I! — How  did  we  come  to- 
gether?   And  what  has  brought  him  to  me?  " 

He  was  so  immersed  in  his  own  reflections  that 
he  did  not  even  open  his  mouth,  when  Sipyagin* 

33 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

at  the  conclusion  of  his  speech,  relapsed  into  si- 
lence, awaiting  an  answer.  Sipyagin  darted  a 
glance  at  the  corner  where  Pakhlin  had  taken 
refuge,  and  was  devouring  him  with  his  ej^es  in  a 
manner  quite  equal  to  that  of  Nezhdanoff— as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Is  not  the  presence  of  this  third 
person  keeping  NezhdanoiF  from  speaking  out?  " 
—  Sipyagin  elevated  his  eyebrows,  as  though  sub- 
mitting to  the  strangeness  of  the  surroundings 
into  which  he  had  stumbled,  by  his  own  volition, 
however, — and  following  his  brows  he  elevated 
his  voice  and  repeated  his  question. 

Nezhdanoff  gave  a  start. 

"  Of  course,"— he  began,  somewhat  hurriedly; 
— "  I  .  .  .  .  accept .  .  .  with  pleasure  .  .  .  although 
I  must  confess  .  .  .  that  I  cannot  avoid  feeling 
some  surprise  ...  as  I  have  no  recommendations 
.  .  .  and,  moreover,  the  very  opinions  which  I 
expressed  to  you  day  before  yesterday  in  the 
theatre  ought  rather  to  deter  you " 

"  On  that  point  you  are  entirely  mistaken,  my 
dear  Alexyei  .  .  .  Alexyei  Dmitritch!  I  believe 
that  is  your  name,"— remarked  Sipyagin,  display- 
ing his  teeth. — "  I,  I  venture  to  say,  am  known 
as  a  man  of  liberal,  progressive  convictions; 
and,  on  the  contrary,  your  opinions,  setting- 
aside  everything  about  them  which  is  peculiar  to 
youth,  which  is  inclined— do  not  take  offence!— 
to  a  certain  exaggeration,— those  opinions  of 
yours  are  not  in  the  least  antagonistic  to  my  own 

34) 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

— and  they  even  please  me  by  their  youthful 
fervour ! ' ' 

Sipyagin  talked  without  the  slightest  hesita- 
tion: his  round,  fluent  speech  flowed  like  honey 
on  oil. 

"  My  wife  shares  my  manner  of  thought," — 
he  went  on: — "her  views  more  nearly  resemble 
yours,  perhaps,  than  they  do  mine ;  that  is  easily 
comprehensible:  she  is  younger!— When,  the 
other  day,  after  our  meeting,  I  read  in  the  news- 
paper your  name,  which,  I  will  remark,  by-the- 
bye,  contrary  to  general  custom,  was  published, 
along  with  your  address  (I  had  already  learned 
your  name  in  the  theatre ) ,  then  .  .  it .  .  .  that  fact 
impressed  me,  I  perceived  in  it — in  that  coinci- 
dence— a  certain — pardon  the  superstition  of  the 
expression — a  certain  finger  of  Fate,  so  to 
speak!— You  have  alluded  to  recommendations; 
but  I  require  no  recommendations. — Your  ap- 
pearance, your  personality  arouse  my  sympathy. 
That  is  enough  for  me.  I  have  become  accus- 
tomed to  trust  my  eye.  So — may  I  hope?  You 
accept?  " 

"  I  do  ....  of  course "  replied  Nezhdanoff 

— "  and  I  shall  endeavour  to  justify  your  confi- 
dence.—  Only,  permit  me  to  warn  you,  now,  of 
one  thing :  I  am  ready  to  be  your  son's  tutor,  but 
not  his  governor.  I  am  not  capable  of  that — and 
I  do  not  care  to  enslave  myself ;  I  will  not  deprive 
myself  of  my  freedom." 

35 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Sipyagin  lightly  waved  his  hand  in  the  air,  as 
though  chasing  away  a  fly. 

"Be  at  your  ease,  my  dearest  fellow.  .  .  ,  You 
are  not  of  the  flour  from  which  governors  are 
baked;— and  I  do  not  want  a  governor.  I  am 
seeking  a  teacher— and  I  have  found  him.  Well, 
and  how  about  the  terms — the  pecuniary  terms— 
the  loathsome  coin? " 

Nezhdanoff  made  an  effort  to  say  some- 
thing. ... 

"  Listen,"— said  Sipyagin,  bending  his  whole 
body  forward,  and  touching  Nezhdanoff 's  knee 
with  the  tips  of  his  fingers  in  a  caressing  manner : 
— "  among  w^ell-bred  people  such  questions  are 
settled  in  two  words.  I  offer  you  one  hundred 
rubles  a  month;  your  travelling  expenses  there 
and  back  are,  of  course,  paid  by  me. — Do  you 
accept?  " 

Again  Nezhdanoff  flushed  crimson. 

"  That  is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  had  intended 
to  ask  ....  because  ...  I  ...  ." 

"  Very  good,  very  good  indeed  .  .  .  ."  inter- 
rupted Sipyagin.  .  "  I  look  upon  this  matter  as 
settled  .  .  .  and  on  you— as  a  member  of  my 
family." — He  rose  from  his  chair,  and  suddenly 
grew  very  jolly  and  florid  of  manner,  exactly  as 
though  he  had  received  a  gift.  In  all  his  move- 
ments a  certain  pleasant  familiarity  and  even 
sportiveness  made  its  appearance. 

"  We  shall  set  out  in  a  few  days,"— lie  said, 

86 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

in  a  free-and-easy  tone: — "  I  love  to  welcome  the 
spring  in  the  country,  although,  by  the  nature 
of  my  occupation,  I  am  a  prosaic  man,  and 
chained  to  the  town.  .  .  .  And  therefore,  permit 
me  to  consider  your  first  month  as  beginning 
with  to-day.  My  wife  and  son  are  already  in 
Moscow.  She  has  gone  on  ahead.  We  shall  find 
them  in  the  country  ....  in  the  lap  of  nature. 
You  and  I  will  travel  together ....  as  bachelors 
. . . .  he,he!  "— Sipyagin  laughed  coquettishly  and 
abruptly  through  his  nose. — "And  now  .  .  .  ." 

He  pulled  out  of  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat  a 
silver  pocket-book  enamelled  in  black,  and  drew 
thence  a  card. 

"  This  is  my  present  address. — Drop  in — say 
to-morrow.  That  's  it  .  .  .  about  twelve  o'clock. 
We  will  discuss  the  matter  further.  I  will  make 
known  to  you  certain  ideas  of  mine  in  regard  to 
education.  .  .  .  Well— and  we  will  decide  upon 
the  day  of  our  departure." — Sipyagin  shook 
NezhdanofF's  hand.—"  And  do  you  know 
what?"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  and  tilting 
his  head  on  one  side:  —  "  If  you  require  an  ad- 
vance payment ....  Please  do  not  stand  on  cere- 
mony! take  a  month's  salary  in  advance,  if  you 
like." 

NezhdanofF  simply  did  not  know  what  reply 
to  make;  and  with  the  same  bewilderment  as  be- 
fore, he  gazed  at  the  bright,  courteous,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  unfamiliar  face  which  had  ap- 

37 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

proaclied  so  close  to  his  own  and  was  smiling  at 
him  in  so  gracious  a  manner. 

"  You  do  not  need  it— hey? "  whispered  Si- 
pyagin. 

"If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  tell  you  that 
to-morrow," — articulated  NezhdanofF,  at  last. 

"  Capital!  So— farewell  for  the  present!  Un- 
til to-morrow!"— Sipyagin  released  Nezhdanoff's 
hand,  and  was  on  the  point  of  withdrawing 

"  Permit  me  to  ask  you,"— said  Nezhdanoff, 
suddenly,—"  you  have  just  told  me  that  you 
learned  my  name  in  the  theatre.— From  whom 
did  vou  learn  it?  " 

"  From  whom?— Why,  from  one  of  your  inti- 
mate acquaintances — and,  apparently,  a  kinsman 
of  3^ours — Prince  ....  Prince  G." 

"  The  Imperial- Adjutant?  " 

"  Yes,  from  him." 

NezhdanofF  turned  scarlet— worse  than  be- 
fore— and  opened  his  mouth  .  .  .  but  said  nothing. 
Again  Sipyagin  shook  his  hand — only  in  silence 
this  time — and,  bowing  first  to  him  and  then  to 
Pakhlin,  put  on  his  hat  just  as  he  reached  the 
door,  and  went  out,  wearing  on  his  face  a  self- 
satisfied  smile;  it  expressed  a  consciousness  of 
the  profound  impression  which  his  visit  must  have 
produced. 


38 


IV 

Before  Sipyagin  had  fairly  crossed  the  thresh- 
old, Pakhlin  sprang  from  his  chair,  and  rushing 
at  NezhdanofF  began  to  congratulate  him. 

"What  a  sturgeon  thou  hast  hooked!"— he 
kept  repeating,  snickering  and  kicking  his  feet 
about.  —  "Why,  dost  thou  know  who  that  is? 
The  famous  Sipyagin,  Gentleman  of  the  Im- 
perial Bedchamber — in  a  certain  sense,  a  pillar 
of  society,  a  future  JMinister!  " 

"  He  is  totally  unknown  to  me,"— said  Nezh- 
danoff  gruffly. 

Pakhlin  made  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"  That 's  the  trouble  with  us,  Alexyei  Dmi- 
tritch,  that  we  know  no  one !  We  want  to  act,  we 
want  to  turn  the  whole  world  upside  down,  but 
we  live  apart  from  that  same  world,  we  associate 
only  with  two  or  three  friends,  we  grind  round 
and  round  in  one  spot,  in  a  narrow  circle.  ..." 

"Excuse  me,"  interposed  NezhdanofF:  "that 
is  not  true.  We  only  decline  to  make  acquaint- 
ance with  our  enemies;  but  with  persons  of  our 
own  stamp,  with  the  masses,  we  enter  into  con- 
stant relations." 

"Stop,   stop,   stop,   stop!" — interrupted   Pa- 

39 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

khlin,  in  his  turn. — "  In  the  first  place,  as  to  our 
enemies,  permit  me  to  recall  to  your  mind 
Goethe's  verse: 

Wer  den  Dichter  will  versteh"*!! 
Muss  im  Dichter*' s  Lande  geh"*!!  .  .  , 

—and  I  say: 

Wer  die  Feinde  will  versteh'n 
Muss  im  Feindes  lande  geh'n.  .  . 

It  is  stupid  to  avoid  one's  enemies,  not  to  know 
their  habits  and  manner  of  life; — Stu  .  .  pid! .  .  . 
Yes,  yes !  If  I  wish  to  shoot  a  wolf  in  the  forest 
I  must  know  his  lairs.  ...  In  the  second  place, 
you  just  said,  '  We  enter  into  relations  with  the 
masses.'  .  .  .  My  dear  soul!— In  1862  the  Poles 
went  oiF  '  to  the  forest ' — and  now  we  are  going 
ofP  into  the  same  forest,  that  is  to  say,  the  masses 
of  the  people,  which  for  us  are  as  dense  and  dark 
as  any  forest! " 

"  Well,  then,  and  what  is  to  be  done,  according 
to  thy  opinion? " 

"  The  Indians  fling  themselves  under  the 
wheels  of  Juggernaut,"— continued  Pakhlin, 
gloomily; — "it  crushes  them,  and  they  die — in 
bliss. — We,  also,  have  a  Juggernaut  of  our  own. 
.  .  It  certainly  crushes  us,  but  it  affords  us  no 
bliss." 

"  So,  then,  what  is  to  be  done,  in  thy  opinion?  " 
— repeated    NezhdanofF,    almost    in    a    shout. 

40 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Write  novels  with  a  tendency?— is  that  what 
thou  meanest?  " 

Paklihn  flung  his  hands  apart  and  lolled  his 
head  on  his  left  shoulder. 

"  Thou  mightest  write  novels— in  any  case — 
as  thou  possessest  the  literary  vein.  .  .  .  Come, 
don't  get  angry,  I  won't  do  it  again!  I  know 
thou  dost  not  like  to  have  people  refer  to  that ;  but 
I  agree  with  thee :  to  compose  such  things,  '  with 
stuffing,'  and  with  new-fangled  twists  and  turns: 
'  Akh !  I  love  you !  she  ran  up  .  .  .'  'It  makes 
no  diff*erence  to  me,  he  scratched!  ^— is  any- 
thing but  a  cheerful  matter!— Therefore,  I  re- 
peat: get  into  close  relations  with  all  classes,  be- 
ginning with  the  highest!  You  cannot  place 
your  whole  reliance  on  OstrodiimofFs !  They  are 
honest,  fine  people— but,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
are  stupid !  stupid !  Just  look  at  our  friend.  The 
very  soles  of  his  boots  are  not  the  sort  that  clever 
people  have.  Why,  for  instance,  did  he  leave 
here  a  while  ago? — He  did  not  wish  to  remain  in 
the  same  room,  to  breathe  the  same  air  with  an 
aristocrat! " 

"  I  must  request  thee  not  to  express  thyself  in 
that  manner  concerning  OstrodiimoflP,  in  my 
presence," — Nezhdanoff  caught  him  up  vehe- 
mently.—" He  wears  thick  boots,  because  they 
are  cheap." 

"  I  did  not  mean  it  in  that  sense," — Pakhlin 
was  beginning. . . . 

41 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  If  he  does  not  wish  to  remain  in  the  same 
room  with  an  aristocrat," — went  on  Nezhdanoff, 
raising  his  voice, — "  I  laud  him  for  that; — but 
the  chief  thing  of  all  is:  he  will  know  how  to 
sacrifice  himself — and,  if  necessary,  he  will  go 
to  his  death,  which  is  something  that  thou  and  I 
will  never  do !  " 

Pakhlin  made  a  wry  face,  and  pointed  at  his 
thin,  deformed  little  legs. 

"  How  can  I  contend,  my  friend,  Alexyei 
Dmitritch! — Good  gracious!    But  setting  all  that 

aside I  repeat :  I  am  heartily  glad  of  thine 

acquaintance  with  Mr.  Sipyagin— and  I  even 
foresee  great  benefit  from  that  acquaintance — 
for  our  affair.  Thou  wilt  get  into  the  higher 
circles!  Thou  wilt  see  those  'lionesses,'  those 
women  with  bodies  of  velvet  on  steel  springs,  as 
it  is  expressed  in  '  Letters  from  Spain  ' ;  study 
them,  brother,  study  them!  If  thou  wert  an 
epicurean,  I  should  even  be  apprehensive  on  thy 
account  ...  I  really  should!— But  surely  thou 
art  not  taking  a  position  as  tutor  with  that  aim 
m  viewf 

"  I  am  taking  a  position  as  tutor," — put  in 
INTezhdanofF, — "  in  order  to  avoid  starvation  .  .  . 
And  in  order  to  get  away  from  all  of  you  for  a 
time," — he  added  to  himself. 

"Well,  of  course!  of  course! — Therefore,  I 
say  to  thee :  study !  But  what  an  odour  that  gen- 
tleman has  left  behind  him! "    Pakhlin  elevated 

42 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

his  nose  in  the  air.—"  That 's  it,  the  genuine 
'  ambray '  of  which  the  lady's-maid  in  '  The  In- 
spector '  dreamed!  " 

"  He  questioned  Prince  G.  .  .  about  me," — 
said  NezhdanofF,  in  a  dull  tone,  again  huddling 
himself  in  the  window: — "my  entire  history 
must  be  known  to  him,  by  this  time." 

"  Not  '  must  be,'  but— certainly  is!  What  of 
that?— I  '11  bet  you,  that  that  is  the  very  reason 
why  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  engage  thee  as 
teacher.  Say  what  thou  wilt,  thou  art  certainly  an 
aristocrat  thyself — by  blood.  Well,  and  that  is  as 
much  as  to  say:  thine  own  master!  But  I  have 
stayed  too  long  with  thee;  it  is  high  time  I  went 
to  my  office,  to  the  exploiters! — Farewell  for  the 
present,  brother!" 

Pakhlin  started  for  the  door,  but  halted,  and 
turned  back. 

"Hearken,  Alyosha," — he  said,  in  an  insinuat- 
ing tone: — "  a  while  ago,  thou  didst  refuse  me, — 
now  thou  wilt  have  money  of  thine  own,  I  know, 
but  nevertheless,  allow  me  to  contribute  at  least 
a  trifle  to  the  general  cause! — I  can  aid  in  no 
other  way,  than  through  my  pocket!  See  here: 
I  place  a  ten-ruble  note  on  the  table!  Is  it  ac- 
cepted? " 

Nezhdanoff  made  no  reply,  and  did  not  move. 

"Silence  gives  consent!  Thanks!" — cried 
Pakhlin  merrily,  and  vanished. 

NezhdanofF   was   left   alone He   con- 

43 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

tinued  to  stare  through  the  window-pane  at  the 
gloomy,  contracted  courtyard,  into  which  the 
rays  even  of  the  summer  sun  did  not  fall,  and 
his  face  was  gloomy  also. 

Nezhdiinoff  was  born,  as  we  already  know,  of 
Prince  G.,  wealthy,  an  Imperial-Adjutant,  and 
his  daughter's  governess,  a  pretty  little  graduate 
from  a  Government  Institute  school,  who  died 
on  the  day  she  gave  him  birth.  Nezhdanoff  had 
received  his  first  education  in  the  boarding- 
school  of  a  Swiss,  an  active,  severe  pedagogue, 
and  then  he  had  entered  the  University.  He 
himself  had  desired  to  become  a  jurist: — but  the 
general,  his  father,  who  hated  the  nihilists,  had 
set  him  at  work  "  on  aesthetics,"  as  NezhdanofF 
expressed  it,  with  a  bitter  smile,  that  is  to  say,  in 
the  historico-philological  course.  NezhdanofF's 
father  saw  him  at  most  three  or  four  times  a 
year,  but  he  took  an  interest  in  his  fate— and, 
when  he  died,  bequeathed  him — "  in  memory  of 
Nastenka  "  (his  mother) — a  capital  of  six  thou- 
sand rubles,  the  interest  on  which,  under  the  title 
of  "pension,"  was  paid  to  him  by  his  brothers,  the 
Princes  G. — It  was  not  for  nothing  that  Pakhlin 
had  called  him  an  aristocrat;  everything  about 
him  betrayed  his  high  breeding:  his  small  ears, 
hands,  feet,  his  rather  small  but  delicate  features, 
his  soft  skin,  his  soft,  abundant  hair,  his  very 
voice,  which  was  rather  lisping  but  agreeable. 
He  was  frightfully  nervous,  frightfully  egotis- 

44 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

tical,  impressionable,  and  even  capricious;  the 
false  position,  in  which  he  had  been  placed  from 
his  very  childhood,  had  developed  in  him  quick- 
ness to  take  offence,  and  irritability;  but  innate 
magnanimity  did  not  permit  of  his  becoming  sus- 
picious and  distrustful. — That  same  false  posi- 
tion of  NezhdanofF  also  explains  the  contradic- 
tions which  contended  in  his  being.  Neat  to 
spruceness,  squeamish  to  fastidiousness,  he  strove 
to  be  cynical,  and  coarse  in  language;  an 
idealist  by  nature,  passionate  and  chaste,  bold 
and  timid  at  one  and  the  same  time,  he  was 
ashamed,  as  of  a  disgraceful  vice,  both  of  his  pas- 
sion and  his  chastity,  and  regarded  it  as  his  duty 
to  jeer  at  ideals.  He  had  a  tender  heart,  and 
avoided  people;  he  easily  flew  into  a  rage — and 
never  cherished  rancour.  He  was  indignant  with 
his  father,  because  the  latter  had  set  him  to  work 
"at  assthetics":  he  openly,  in  the  sight  of  all 
men,  busied  himself  exclusively  with  political 
and  socialistic  problems,  professed  the  most  ex- 
treme opinions—  (in  him,  they  were  not  mere 
phrases!) — and  secretly  enjoyed  art,  poetry, 
beauty  in  all  its  manifestations  ....  he  even 
wrote  verses  himself.  He  carefully  hid  the  note- 
book, in  which  he  had  transcribed  them— and 
among  his  Petersburg  friends,  Pakhlin  alone, 
and  that  owing  to  his  fine  scent,  suspected  its 
existence.  Nothing  so  offended,  so  insulted 
NezhdanofF,  as  the  slightest  allusion  to  his  verse- 

45 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

writing,  to  this,  as  he  regarded  it,  his  unpardon- 
able weakness.  Thanks  to  his  Swiss  teacher,  he 
knew  a  multitude  of  facts,  and  was  not  afraid 
of  toil ;  he  even  liked  to  work  in  a  somewhat  fever- 
ish and  inconsequent  manner,  to  tell  the  truth. — 
His  comrades  loved  him  .  .  .  they  were  attracted 
by  his  inward  uprightness  and  kindliness  and  pur- 
ity; but  NezhdanofF  had  not  been  born  under  a 
lucky  star;  he  did  not  find  life  easy. 

He  himself  was  profoundly  conscious  of  this — 
and  he  recognised  that  he  was  solitarj^  despite 
the  attachment  of  his  friends. 

He  continued  to  stand  in  front  of  the  window 
— and  reflected  sadly  and  painfully  about  his 
impending  journey,  about  the  new,  unexpected 
crisis  in  his  fate.  .  .  .  He  did  not  regret  Peters- 
burg; he  was  not  leaving  behind  him  there  any- 
thing especially  dear  to  him;  moreover,  he  knew 
that  he  was  to  return  in  the  autumn.  And,  never- 
theless, he  was  beset  with  irresolution ;  he  experi- 
enced an  involuntary  dejection. 

"What  sort  of  a  teacher  am  I?"  flashed 
through  his  mind;  — "what  sort  of  a  peda- 
gogue? " — He  was  ready  to  reproach  himself 
for  having  accepted  the  duties  of  an  instructor. 
Nevertheless,  such  a  reproach  would  Have  been 
unjust. — Nezhdanofl"  possessed  sufficient  knowl- 
edge— and,  in  spite  of  his  uneven  temper,  chil- 
dren came  to  him  without  constraint — and  he 
himself  easily  became  attached  to  them.     The 

46 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

melancholy  which  had  seized  upon  Nezhdanoff 
was  that  sensation  peculiar  to  every  change  of 
place — a  sensation  which  is  experienced  by  all 
persons  of  melancholy  temperament,  all  medita- 
tive people ;  it  is  not  known  to  persons  of  dashing, 
sanguine  character;  they  are,  rather,  ready  to 
rejoice  when  the  every-day  course  of  life  is 
broken,  when  its  habitual  surroundings  are 
changed.  NezhdanofF  became  engrossed  in  his 
thoughts  to  such  a  degree  that  gradually,  un- 
consciously, he  began  to  put  them  into  words ;  the 
emotions  which  were  fermenting  within  him  were 
already  ranging  themselves  in  measured  ca- 
dence  

"Phew!  the  devil!"  he  cried  aloud.— "Ap- 
parently, I  am  on  the  verge  of  composing 
verses!" — He  gave  a  start,  and  retreated  from  the 
window;  catching  sight  of  Pakhlin's  ten-ruble 
note,  which  lay  on  the  table,  he  stuffed  it  into 
his  pocket,  and  set  to  striding  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"  I  must  take  some  earnest-money," — he 
argued  with  himself  ..."  seeing  that  the  gen- 
tleman offers  it. — One  hundred  rubles  .  .  .  and 
from  my  brothers — from  their  Serenities, — one 

hundred  rubles Fifty  for  my  debt,  fifty 

or  seventy  for  the  journey  ....  and  the  rest 
can  go  to  Ostrodumoff.  And  here,  too,  what 
Pakhlin  has  given,  he  can  have  that  also " 

While  he  was  casting  up  these  accounts  in  his 

47 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

head — the  former  rhymes  began  again  to  stir 
within  him.  He  paused,  meditated  ....  and, 
tm'ning  his  eyes  to  one  side,  he  became  rooted  to 

the    spot Then    his    hands,    as    though 

guided  by  the  sense  of  feehng,  sought  and 
opened  the  drawer  of  his  table,  drew  forth  from 
its  very  innermost  depths  a  closely-written  note- 
book. ..... 

He  dropped  into  a  chair,  still  never  altering 
the  direction  of  his  gaze,  took  a  pen,  and  puiTing 
to  himself,  now  and  then  tossing  back  his  hair, 
erasing,  blotting,  he  began  to  jot  down  line  after 
line 

The  door  of  the  anteroom  was  opened  half- 
way—and Miss  Mashurin's  head  made  its  ap- 
pearance. NezhdanofF  did  not  notice  it,  and  went 
on  with  his  work.  Miss  Mashurin  stared  long 
and  intently  at  him — and,  shaking  her  head  to 
right  and  left,  beat  a  retreat.  .  .  .  But  Nezhda- 
noff  suddenly  straightened  himself  up,  glanced 
round,  and  saying,  with  vexation: 

"Ah!  You!" — flung  the  note-book  into  the 
table-drawer. 

Then  Miss  Mashurin  entered  the  room,  with 
a  firm  tread. 

"  OstrodiimofF  has  sent  me  to  you," — she  said, 
hesitatingly, — "  in  order  to  find  out  when  he  can 
have  the  money. — If  you  obtain  it  to-day,  we  will 
set  out  this  evening." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  get  it  to-day,"— rejoined 

48 


VIRGIN  SOIL 


NezlidanofF,  and  knit  his  brows:— "  come  to- 
morrow." 

"At  what  time?" 

"  At  two  o'clock." 

"  Very  well." 

Miss  Mashurin  said  nothing  for  a  while,  then 
suddenly  offered  her  hand  to  Nezhdanoif .  .  .  . 

"I  seem  to  have  disturbed  you;  pardon  me. 
And  besides  ....  I  am  going  away.  Who 
knows  whether  we  shall  see  each  other  again?  I 
wished  to  bid  you  farewell." 

Nezhdanoff  pressed  her  red,  cold  fingers. 

"  You  saw  that  gentleman  here?  "—he  began. 
— "  He  and  I  have  come  to  terms.  I  am  going 
with  him  as  tutor.  His  estate  is  in  the  Govern- 
ment of  S.,  near  S.  itself." 

A  joyful  smile  flashed  over  Miss  Mashurin's 
face. 

"Near  S.!  Then,  perhaps,  we  shall  see  each 
other  again.  Perhaps  we  shall  be  sent  thither." 
—Miss  Mashurin  sighed.— "Akh,  Alexyei  Dmi- 
tritch " 

"What?"— asked  Nezhdanoif. 

Miss  IVIashurin  assumed  a  concentrated  mien. 

"  Never  mind.— Farewell!    It  is  nothing." 

Again  she  pressed  Nezhdanoff 's  hand  firmly, 
and  withdrew. 

"  There  is  no  other  person  in  all  Petersburg, 

who  is  so  attached  to  me  as  that queer 

woman!  "  thought  Nezhdanoff  to  himself.  "  But 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

why  on  earth  did  she  disturb  me?  .  .  However, 
it  is  all  for  the  best !  " 

On  the  morning  of  the  following  day,  Nezhda- 
nofF  betook  himself  to  Sipyagin's  city  residence, 
and  there,  in  a  magnificent  study,  filled  with  fur- 
niture of  a  severe  style,  which  fully  accorded 
with  the  dignity  of  a  liberal  statesman  and  gen- 
tleman, seated  in  front  of  a  huge  desk,  on  which, 
in  stately  order,  lay  documents  of  no  use  what- 
ever, along  with  gigantic  pajjer-knives  of  ivory, 
which  had  never  cut  anything,— he,  for  the  space 
of  a  whole  hour,  listened  to  the  free-thinking  host, 
was  drenched  with  the  oil  of  his  wise,  affable, 
gracious  speeches,  received,  at  last,  one  hundred 
i-ubles  as  earnest -money,  and,  ten  days  later,  that 
same  NezhdanofF,  half -reclining  on  a  velvet 
divan,  in  a  special  compartment  of  a  first-class 
railway  carriage,  side  by  side  with  that  same 
wise,  liberal  statesman  and  gentleman,  was 
whirling  on  toward  Moscow  over  the  jolting 
rails  of  the  Nicholas  railway. 


50 


In  the  drawing-room  of  a  large  stone  house, 
with  columns  and  a  Grecian  facade,  built  in  the 
twenties  of  the  nineteenth  century,  by  the  well- 
known  agriculturist  and  "  Danteist,"  ^  Sipya- 
gin's  father,  his  wife,  Valentina  Mikliailovna,  a 
very  handsome  lady,  was  every  moment  expect- 
ing the  arrival  of  her  husband,  which  had  been 
announced  by  a  telegram. — The  furnishing  of 
the  drawing-room  bore  the  imprint  of  the  new- 
est, most  delicate  taste;  everything  in  it  was 
pretty  and  pleasing,  everything,  from  the 
agreeable  variety  of  the  cretonne  coverings  and 
draperies  to  the  diversified  outlines  of  the  porce- 
lain, bronze,  and  crystal  trifles  scattered  about 
on  the  etageres  and  tables,  everything  stood  out 
softly  and  harmoniously,  and  mingled  with  the 
merry  rays  of  the  May  day,  which  streamed 
freelv  through  the  windows  that  had  been  set 
ajar.  The  air  of  the  drawing-room,  permeated 
with  the  fragrance  of  lilies-of-the-valley  (large 
bouquets  of  those  wondrously-beautiful  spring 
flowers  gleamed  white  here  and  there)  — barely 
stirred,  now  and  then  agitated  by  the  entrance  of 

^  The  epithet  applied  to  the  landed  proprietors  who  (before  the  Eman- 
cipation) were  accustomed  to  torture  their  serfs. — TiiANSLAToa. 

51 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

a  light  breeze,  which  circled  softly  over  the  su- 
perbly laid-out  garden. 

A  charming  picture !  And  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  Valentina  Mikhailovna  Sipyagin,  com- 
pleted the  picture,  imparted  to  it  sense  and  life. 
She  was  a  woman  of  lofty  stature,  thirty  years 
of  age,  with  dark  chestnut  hair,  with  a  dark  but 
fresh  face  of  uniform  hue,  which  reminded  one 
of  the  countenance  of  the  Sistine  Madonna,  and 
wonderful,  deep,  velvety  eyes.— Her  lips  were 
rather  broad  and  pale,  her  shoulders  rather  high, 

her  hands  rather  large But,  in  spite  of 

all  this,  any  one  who  had  beheld  her,  as  she  moved 
freely  and  gracefully  about  the  drawing-room, 
now  bending  over  the  flowers  her  slender,  slightly 
laced  figure,  and  inhaling  their  odour  with  a  smile, 
now  altering  the  position  of  some  Chinese  vase, 
now  swiftly  adjusting,  in  front  of  the  mirror,  her 
shining  hair,  and  slightly  narrowing  her  marvel- 
lous eyes, — any  one,  we  say,  would  have  ex- 
claimed, to  himself  or  even  aloud,  that  he  had 
never  encountered  so  bewitching  a  creature! 

A  pretty,  curly-haired  little  boy,  nine  years  of 
age,  in  a  Scottish  costume,  with  his  little  legs 
bare,  lavishly  pomaded  and  curled,  ran  headlong 
into  the  drawing-room,  and  came  to  a  sudden 
halt  at  the  sight  of  Valentina  Mikhailovna. 

"  What  dost  thou  want,  Kolya?  "—she  asked. 
— Her  voice  was  as  soft  and  velvety  as  her  eyes. 

"  This  is  what  I  want,  mamma," — began  the 

52 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

little  boy,  with  embarrassment, — "  aunty  sent  me 
here  ....  she  ordered  me  to  bring  her  some 
lilies-of-the-valley  ....  for  her  room  .  .  .  she 
has  none.  ..." 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  took  her  little  son  by  the 
chin,  and  raised  his  pomaded  head. 

"  Tell  aunty,  that  she  must  send  to  the  gar- 
dener for  lilies-of-the-valley;— but  these  lilies  be- 
long to  me.  .  ,  I  do  not  wish  to  have  them 
touched.  Tell  her,  that  I  do  not  like  to  have  my 
rules  broken.  Wilt  thou  be  able  to  repeat  my 
words? " 

"  Yes,"  ....  whispered  the  boy. 

"  Come,  now — say  them  over." 

"  I  shall  say  ....  I  shall  say  .  .  .  that  thou 
wilt  not  let  her." 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  broke  into  a  laugh. — 
And  her  laugh,  also,  was  soft. 

"  I  perceive  that  one  cannot  yet  intrust  any 
commissions  to  thee.  Well,  it  makes  no  diiFer- 
ence,  say  whatever  comes  into  thy  head." 

The  little  boy  bestowed  a  swift  kiss  on  his 
mother's  hand,  all  adorned  with  rings,  and  flew 
headlong  thence. 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  followed  him  with  her 
eyes,  sighed,  approached  a  cage  of  gilded  wire, 
along  whose  walls,  cautiously  clutching  with 
beak  and  claws,  a  small  green  parrakeet  was 
climbing,  and  teased  him  with  the  tip  of  her 
finger;  then  she  sank  down  on  a  small,  low  couch, 

53 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

and  taking  from  a  small,  round,  carved  table,  the 
last  number  of  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondesi- 
she,  began  to  turn  over  the  leaves. 

A  respectful  cough  made  her  look  up.  On  the 
threshold  of  the  door,  stood  a  comely  footman, 
in  a  livery  coat,  and  white  necktie. 

"  What  dost  thou  want, — Agafon?  "  inquired 
Valentina  IMikhailovna,  in  the  same  soft  voice  as 
before. 

*'  Semyon  Petrovitch  KallomyeitzefF  has  ar- 
rived, madam.     Will  you  receive  him?  " 

"Ask  him  in;  ask  him  in,  of  course. — And 
tell  them  to  request  IMarianna  Vikentievna  to 
come  to  the  drawing-room." 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  flung  the  number  of 
the  Revue  des  Deuce  Mondes  on  the  table, — 
and,  leaning  against  the  back  of  the  divan — 
rolled  her  eyes  upward,  and  fell  into  meditation, 
— which  was  very  becoming  to  her. 

From  the  manner  alone  in  which  Semyon 
Petrovitch  Kallomyeitzefl",  a  young  man,  two  and 
thirty  years  of  age,  entered  the  room, — uncon- 
strainedly,  carelessly  and  wearily, — from  the 
fact  that,  of  a  sudden,  his  face  brightened  up 
pleasantly,  and  he  made  his  bow,  a  little  to  one 
side,  and  from  the  elastic  manner  in  which  he 
drew  himself  up  afterward,  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  talked,  not  exactly  through  his  nose, 
and  yet  not  quite  sweetly, — from  the  respectful 
way  in  which  he  took,  the  impressive  way  in 

54 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

which  he  kissed,  Valentina  Mikhailovna's  hand, — 
any  one  could  have  divined,  that  the  newly-ar- 
rived visitor  was  not  a  resident  of  the  rural  dis- 
tricts, not  a  rural,  accidental,  although  wealthy 
neighbour,  but  a  genuine  Petersburg  "  fashion- 
able "  of  the  highest  circles. — Moreover,  he  was 
clad  in  the  very  best  English  fashion:  the  flow- 
ered tip  of  his  white  batiste  handkerchief  stuck 
out,  in  a  tiny  triangle,  from  the  flat  side-pocket 
of  his  variegated  jacket;  from  a  rather  broad 
black  ribbon  dangled  a  monocle;  the  dead-white 
hue  of  his  suede  gloves  corresponded  with  the 
dead-grey  colouring  of  his  checked  trousers.  Mr. 
KallomyeitzefF's  hair  was  closely  cut,  he  was 
smoothly  shaved;  his  somewhat  feminine  face, 
with  its  small  e5^es  set  close  together,  with  its 
thin,  hooked  nose,  and  its  plump,  red  lips,  ex- 
pressed the  agreeable  license  of  the  highly-edu- 
cated nobleman.  It  exhaled  courtesy  .  .  .  and 
very  easily  became  malicious,  even  harsh ;  all  that 
was  required  was  that  some  one  or  something 
should  vex  Semyon  Petrovitch,  should  wound 
his  conservative,  patriotic  and  religious  princi- 
ples,—oh!  then  he  became  pitiless!  All  his  ele- 
gance instantaneously  evaporated: — his  tender 
eyes  lighted  up  with  an  evil  flame: — his  hand- 
some little  mouth  emitted  ugly  words — and  ap- 
pealed— with  a  shriek  appealed  to  the  authorities! 
Semyon  Petrovitch's  family  was  descended 
from  plain  market-gardeners.    His  great-grand- 

55 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

father  had  been  calle3,  after  the  place  of  his  ex- 
traction: Kolonicntzoff.  .  .  But  his  grand- 
father had  clianged  himself  into  Kolomeitzeff ;  his 
father  had  written  it:  Kallomeitzeff,  and  finally, 
Semyon  Petrovitch,  had  inserted  the  character 
ye  in  the  place  of  e,  and  seriously  regarded  him- 
self as  a  pure-blooded  aristocrat;  he  was  even 
wont  to  hint,  that  their  family  was  really  de- 
scended from  the  Barons  Gallemeyer,  one  of 
whom  had  been  an  Austrian  field-marshal  in  the 
Thirty  Years'  War.  Semyon  Petrovitch  served 
in  the  Ministry  of  the  Court,  had  the  post  of  Ju- 
nior Gentleman  of  the  Imperial  Bedchamber; 
patriotism  prevented  his  entering  the  diplomatic 
career,  where,  it  appeared,  he  was  constantly  be- 
ing summoned;  and  his  education,  his  habit  of 
society,  his  success  with  women,  and  his  very  ap- 
pearance .  .  .  mais  quitter  la  Russie? — jamais! 
— KallomyeitzefF  possessed  a  fine  property,  had 
influential  connections;  he  bore  the  reputation  of 
a  trustworthy  and  devoted  man — ^'^  un  peu  trop 
.  .  .  feodal  dans  ses  opinions"  as  the  well-known 
Prince  B.,  one  of  the  lights  of  the  Petersburg 
official  world,  expressed  himself  with  regard  to 
him.  KallomyeitzefF  had  come  to  the  Govern- 
ment of  S.  .  .  .  on  a  two  months'  leave  of  ab- 
sence, in  order  to  attend  to  matters  on  his  estate — 
that  is,  "  to  frighten  some,  to  crush  down  others." 
— For  it  is  impossible  to  dispense  with  that! 
"  I  supposed  that  I  should  find  Boris  Andreiteh 

56 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

here,"— he  began,  shifting  amiably  from  one  foot 
to  the  other,  and  suddenly  glancing  aside,  in  imi- 
tation of  a  very  important  personage. 

Valentina  ^Mikhailovna  slightly  knit  her  brows : 

"  Othei*wise  you  would  not  have  come? " 

KallomyeitzefF  fairly  flung  himself  backward, 
so  unjust  did  Madame  Sipyagin's  question  ap- 
pear to  him,  and  so  absolutely  absurd! 

"Valentina  Mikhailovna!  "— he  exclaimed,— 
"  upon  my  word,  is  it  possible  to  suspect  .  .  .  ." 

"Very  well,  very  well,  sit  down;  Boris  An- 
dreitch  will  be  here  directly.  I  have  sent  the 
calash  to  the  station  for  him.  Wait  a  little.  .  .  . 
You  will  see  him.    What  time  is  it  now?  " 

"  Half -past  two,"— replied  KallomyeitzefF, 
drawing  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  large  gold 
watch,  adorned  with  enamel.  He  showed  it  to 
Madame  Sipyagin.— "  Have  you  seen  my  watch? 
It  was  given  to  me  by  Mikhail,  you  know  .... 
the  Servian  Prince  ....  Obrenovitch.  Here 
is  his  monogram,— look  at  it.  He  and  I  are  great 
friends.  We  have  hunted  together.  He  's  a 
si)lendid  young  fellow!  And  he  has  a  hand  of 
iron,  as  a  ruler  should  have.  Oh,  he  is  not  fond 
of  jesting!    No-oo-oo!" 

KallomyeitzefF  dropped  into  an  arm-chair, 
crossed  his  legs,  and  began  slowly  to  pull  off  his 
left  glove. 

"  We  ought  to  have  that  sort  of  a  Mikhail  here, 
in  our  government." 

57 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Why  so?  Are  you  discontented  with  any- 
thing? " 

KallomyeitzefF  wrinkled  up  his  nose. 

"It  's  that  county  council,  as  usual!  That 
county  council!  Where  's  the  use  of  it?  It 
only  weakens  the  administration,  and  arouses  .... 
unnecessary  ideas.  .  ."  (KallomyeitzefF  dan- 
gled his  left  hand,  freed  from  the  oppression  of 
its  glove,  in  the  air.)  "  I  have  spoken  about  that 
in  Petersburg  ....  mais,  bah!  The  wind  was 
not  setting  in  that  direction.  Even  your  hus- 
band ....  imagine!  However,  he  is  well 
known  as  a  liberal." 

Madame  Sipyagin  straightened  herself  up  on 
her  little  divan. 

"What?  And  you,  Mr.  KallomyeitzefF,  do 
you  ofFer  opposition  to  the  government?" 

"I?  Opposition?  Never!  Not  on  any  terms! 
Mais  j'ai  mon  franc  parler.  I  sometimes  criti- 
cise, but  I  always  submit!  " 

"  It  is  precisely  the  opposite  with  me!  I  do 
not  criticise,  and  I  do  not  submit." 

"Ah!  mais,  cest  un  mot!  With  your  permis- 
sion, I  will  communicate  your  remark  to  my 
friend  Ladislas;  vous  savez,  he  is  making  prepa- 
rations to  write  a  romance  of  high  life,  and  he  has 
already  read  me  several  chapters.  It  will  be 
charming!  Nous  aurons  enfin  le  grand  monde 
russe  pcint  par  lui-meme." 

"  Where  is  it  to  appear?  " 

58 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  In  the  Russian  Messenger,  of  course.  That 
is  our  Revue  des  Deuce  Mondes.  I  see  that  you 
read  it." 

"  Yes;  but  do  you  know,  it  is  becoming  very 
stupid." 

"  Possibly  ....  possibly  ....  And  the 
Russian  Messenger  also,  if  you  like,  for  some 
time  past — to  speak  in  the  current  jargon — has 
been  getting  a  wee  bit  groggy  of  late." 

KallomyeitzefF  laughed  at  the  top  of  his  voice ; 
it  struck  him  as  very  amusing  to  say  "  has  been 
getting  groggy,"  and  "  a  wee  bit."— '^  Mais,  cest 
un  journal  qui  se  respecte!"—he  went  on, — 
"  and  that  is  the  principal  thing.  I  must  in- 
form you  that  I  .  .  .  take  very  little  interest 
in  Russian  literature;  a  lot  of  plebeians  are 
cutting  a  figure  in  it  nowadays.  Things  have 
come  to  such  a  pass,  that  the  heroine  of  a  ro- 
mance is— a  plain  cook,  parole  d'lionneur!    But 

I  shall    read  Ladislas's  romance,  without  fail. 

II  y  aura  le  petit  mot  pour  rire  .... 
and  its  tendency!  its  tendency.  The  nihilists 
will  be  put  to  shame— my  guarantee  for 
that  is  Ladislas's  turn  of  mmd—qui  est  tres 
correct/" 

"  But  not  his  past,"— remarked  Madame 
Sipyagin. 

"  Ah!  jetons  un  voile  sur  les  erreurs  de  sa  jeu- 
nessef— exclaimed  KallomyeitzefF,  and  drew 
off  his  right  glove. 

59 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Again  Madame  Sipyagin  frowned  slightly. 
She  coquetted  a  little  with  her  wonderful  eyes. 

"  Semyon  Petrovitch,"— she  said,—"  allow 
me  to  ask  you,  why,  when  you  are  talking  Rus- 
sian, do  you  use  so  many  French  words?  It 
seems  to  me  that  .  .  .  pardon  me  .  .  .  that  is 
an  old-fashioned  style." 

"  Why?  why?  Not  every  one  possesses  as  capi- 
tal a  command  of  his  native  tongue  as  you  do. 
As  for  myself,  I  recognise  the  Russian  lan- 
guage as  the  language  of  decrees  and  govern- 
mental ordinances;  I  prize  its  purity!  I  bow 
down  before  Karamzin!  .  .  .  But  Russian,  the 
every-day  language,  so  to  speak  .  .  .  Does  it 
exist?  Now,  for  example,  how  would  you  have 
translated  mv  exclamation — de  tout  a  Vlieure: 
'  C'est  un  mot! '  That  is  a  word !  .  .  .  Good 
heavens! " 

"  I  would  have  said:    '  that  is  a  happy  word.'  " 

Kallomyeitzeff  burst  out  laughing. 

"'A  happy  word!'  Valentina  Mikhailovna! 
But  is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  feel  that  that 
....  instantly  reeks  of  the  theological  seminary? 
....  All  the  salt  has  vanished.  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  you  will  not  be  able  to  convince  me. 
But  where  is  that  Marianna? "— She  rang*  the 
bell ;  a  page  entered. 

"  I  gave  orders  that  Marianna  Vikentievna 
should  be  requested  to  come  to  the  drawing- 
room.    Has  she  not  been  informed?  " 

60 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Before  the  page  could  reply,  there  made  her 
appearance,  behind  his  back,  on  the  threshold  of 
the  door,  a  young  girl  in  a  full,  dark  morning- 
gown,  with  her  hair  cut  in  a  round  crop— Ma- 
rianna  Vikentievna  Sinetzky,  Madame  Sipya- 
gin's  niece  on  the  mother's  side. 


VI 


"  Paedon  me,  Valentina  Mikhailovna," — she 
said,  approaching  Madame  Sipyagin, — "  I  was 
busy,  and  hngered  too  long." 

Then  she  bowed  to  KallomyeitzefF,  and,  with- 
drawing to  one  side,  she  seated  herself  on  a  small 
tabouret,  neai'  the  parrakeet,  which,  as  soon  as  it 
caught  sight  of  her,  began  to  flap  its  wings  and 
stretch  out  its  neck  toward  her. 

"  Why  hast  thou  seated  thyself  so  far  away, 
Marianna?  " — remarked  Madame  Sipyagin,  as 
she  followed  her  with  her  eyes  to  the  tabouret. — 
"  Dost  thou  wish  to  be  nearer  to  thy  little  friend? 
Just  imagine,  Semyon  Petrovitch," — she  turned 
to  KallomyeitzefF, — "  that  parrot  is  simply  in 
love  with  our  Marianna " 

"  That  does  not  surprise  me! " 

"  And  it  cannot  endure  me." 

"  That  is  astonishing!  It  must  be  that  you 
tease  it." 

"  Never ;  quite  the  contrary.  I  feed  it  with 
sugar.  Only  it  will  take  nothing  from  my  hands. 
No  ...  it  is  sympathy  .  .  .  and  antipathy.  .  ." 

Marianna  cast  a  sidelong  glance  at  Madame 
Sipyagin  .  .  .  and  Madame  Sipyagin  cast  a 
glance  at  her. 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

These  two  women  did  not  love  each  other. 

In  comparison  with  her  aunt,  JVIarianna  might 
have  been  called  almost  "  an  ugly  girl."  She 
had  a  round  face,  a  large,  aquiline  nose,  grey 
eyes,  which  also  were  large,  and  very  bright, 
slender  brows,  thin  lips.  She  cut  her  chestnut 
hair  short,  and  had  an  unsociable  air.  But  from 
her  whole  being  there  emanated  a  strong  and  dar- 
ing, impetuous  and  passionate  element.  Her 
hands  and  feet  were  tiny ;  her  sturdily  and  supple 
little  body  reminded  one  of  the  Florentine  statu- 
ettes of  the  sixteenth  century;  she  walked  grace- 
fully and  lightly. 

Miss  Sinetzky's  position  in  Madame  Sipya- 
gin's  house  was  decidedly  a  painful  one.  Her 
father,  a  very  clever  and  energetic  man,  of  semi- 
Polish  extraction,  had  attained  to  the  rank  of 
General  in  the  service,  but  had  suddenly  come 
to  grief,  having  been  detected  in  a  huge  theft 
from  the  government  funds;  he  had  been  tried 
.  .  condemned,  deprived  of  his  rank  and  his  no- 
bility, and  banished  to  Siberia.  Then  he  had 
been  pardoned  .  .  and  brought  back;  but  he  did 
not  succeed  in  climbing  up  again,  and  died  in 
extreme  poverty.  His  wife,  Sipyagin's  own 
sister,  the  mother  of  Marianna  (there  were  no 
children  except  herself),  had  not  been  able  to 
bear  up  against  the  blow  which  had  laid  waste 
all  her  prosperity,  and  had  died  shortly  after  her 
husband.     Uncle  Sipyagin  had  given  Marianna 

63 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

an  asylum  in  his  own  house.— But  she  loathed 
living  the  life  of  a  dependent;  she  longed  for 
freedom,  with  all  the  force  of  her  unyielding 
soul— and  an  incessant,  though  concealed  con- 
flict, seethed  between  her  and  her  aunt.  JNIadame 
Sipyagin  regarded  her  as  a  nihilist  and  an  atheist ; 
on  her  side,  ^larianna  hated  Madame  Sipyagin 
as  her  involuntary  oppressor.  She  shunned  her 
uncle,  as  she  did  every  one  else. — She  shunned 
them,— tliat  is  precisely  the  word,— she  did  not 
fear  them ;  she  had  not  a  timid  nature. 

"  Antipathy," — repeated  Kallomyeitzeff, — 
"  yes,  that  is  a  strange  thing.  Everybody  knows, 
for  example,  that  I  am  a  profoundly  religious 
man,  an  Orthodox,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
word ;  but  I  cannot  look  at  a  priest's  plait  of  hair, 
or  his  long  locks,  with  equanimity ;  something  be- 
gins fairly  to  boil  up  within  me,  fairly  to  boil  up." 

Thereupon,  Kallomyeitzeff,  raising  his 
clenched  fist  a  couple  of  times,  even  demonstrated 
how  his  feelings  seethed  in  his  breast. 

"  Hair,  in  general,  seems  to  annoy  you, 
Semyon  Petrovitch," — remarked  Marianna:— 
*'  I  am  convinced  that  you  cannot  look  on  with 
equanimity,  either,  when  any  one  wears  it  cut 
short,  as  I  do." 

Madame  Sipyagin  slowly  elevated  her  eye- 
brows and  bent  her  head,  as  though  amazed  at 
the  freedom  of  manner,  wherewith  the  young 
girls  of  the  present  day  enter  into  the  conversa- 

64 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

tion,— and  KallomyeitzefF  displayed  his  teeth 
in  a  condescending  smile. 

"  Of  course," — he  remarked, — "  I  cannot  but 
regret  those  lovely  curls,  like  yours,  JNIarianna 
Vikentievna,  which  fall  under  the  pitiless  blades 
of  the  shears;  but  there  is  no  antipathy  in  me; 
and,  in  any  case  ....  your  example  might 
....  might  .  .  .  convert  me ! " 

KallomyeitzeiF  could  not  hit  upon  the  Russian 
word, — and  he  did  not  care  to  speak  in  French, 
after  his  hostess's  remark, — so  he  said  "  conver- 
tiro  vat." 

"  Thank  God,  Marianna  does  not  yet  wear 
eye-glasses," — Madame  Sipyagin  joined  in, — 
*'  and  she  has  not  yet  parted  with  her  collars 
and  cuffs: — on  the  other  hand,  she  occupies 
herself  with  the  natural  sciences,  to  my  sincere 
regret;  and  she  takes  an  interest  in  the  ques- 
tion of  Woman  .  .  .  that  is  true,  is  it  not, 
Marianna? " 

All  this  was  said  with  the  object  of  con- 
fusing JVIarianna;  but  she  did  not  become  con- 
fused. 

"  Yes,  aunty," — she  replied, — "  I  read  every- 
thing that  is  written  on  that  subject;  I  try  to 
understand  in  what  that  question  consists." 

"  That  's  what  it  is  to  be  young!  " — Madame 
Sipyagin  addressed  herself  to  KallomyeitzefF:— 
"  now,  you  and  I  do  not  busy  ourselves  with 
that,  do  we?— hey?  " 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Kallomyeitzeff  smiled  sympathetically;  one 
must,  of  course,  keep  up  the  jest  of  an  amiable 
lady. 

"  Marianna  Vikentievna,"— he  began,—"  is 
still  full  of  that  idealism  ....  that  romanti- 
cism of  youth  ....  which  ....  in  the  course 
of  time " 

"  Plowever,  I  am  maligning  myself,"— Ma- 
dame Sipyagin  interrupted  him:—"  Those  ques- 
tions interest  me  also.  For  I  am  not  so  very 
old  yet." 

"  And  I,  also,  take  an  interest  in  all  that," — 
hastily  exclaimed  Kallomyeitzeff:- "  only,  I 
would  prohibit  discussion  on  that  point!  " 

"  You  would  prohibit  discussion  on  that 
point?  "—Marianna  asked. 

"  Yes!— I  would  say  to  the  public:—'  I  do  not 
hinder  your  taking  an  interest  .  .  but  talk  .  .  . 
ssshhhhh! '  "—He  raised  his  finger  to  his  lips.— 
"  In  any  case,  I  would  prohibit  discussion  in 
print! — unconditionally !  " 

Madame  Sipyagin  laughed. 

"  Well?  Don't  you  think  that  a  commission 
should  be  appointed  by  the  Ministry  to  settle 
that  question  ?  " 

"  A  commission  would  answer  very  well.  Do 
you  think  that  M^e  would  settle  the  question  any 
worse  than  all  those  starveling  quill-drivers,  who 
can  see  nothing  beyond  the  end  of  their  own 
noses,  and  imagine  that  they  are  .  .  .  first-class 

06 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

geniuses?— We  would  appoint  Boris  Andreitch 
chairman." 

Madame  Sipyagin  laughed  more  heartily  than 
ever. 

"  Look  out,  have  a  care ;  Boris  Andreitch  is 
sometimes  a  Jacobin.  ..." 

"  Jacot,  jacot,  jacot!  "  chattered  the  parrot. 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  shook  her  handker- 
chief at  it. 

"  Don't  prevent  intelligent  people  from  talk- 
ing! .  .  .  Marianna,  make  it  stop." 

Marianna  turned  to  the  cage,  and  began  with 
her  finger-nail  to  scratch  the  parrot's  neck,  which 
it  immediately  stretched  out  to  her. 

"  Yes," — pursued  Madame  Sipyagin, — 
"  Boris  Andreitch  sometimes  amazes  even  me. 
He  has  a  touch,  ...  a  touch  ...  of  the  trib- 
une, about  him." 

"  C'est  pai'ce  quil  est  orateur!  ^^— hotly  put  in 
KallomyeitzeiF,  in  French. — "  Your  husband 
possesses  the  gift  of  eloquence  beyond  all  others, 
and  he  has  become  accustomed  to  dazzle  .... 
ses  propres  paroles  le  grisent  ....  and,  in  addi- 
tion, there  is  the  desire  for  popularity  .... 
However,  he  is  somewhat  in  a  bad  humour,  is  he 
not?    Ilhoude?    Eh?" 

Madame  Sipyagin  turned  her  eyes  on  Mari- 
anna. 

"  I  have  noticed  nothing  of  the  sort," — she 
said,  after  a  brief  pause. 

67 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Yes," — went  on  Kallomyeitzeif ,  in  a  medita- 
tive tone, — "  he  was  rather  passed  over  at 
Easter." ' 

Again  JNIadame  Sipyagin  directed  his  atten- 
tion to  JNIarianna,  with  her  eyes. 

KallomyeitzefF  smiled  and  screwed  up  his  eyes, 
as  much  as  to  say: — "  I  understand." 

"  Marianna  Vikentievna!  " — he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, in  an  unnecessarily  loud  tone; — "do 
you  intend  to  give  lessons  in  the  school  again 
this  year?  " 

JNIarianna  turned  away  from  the  cage. 

"  And  do  you  take  an  interest  in  that?  Se- 
myon  Petrovitch  ? " 

"  Of  course;  I  even  take  a  very  great  interest 
m  it. 

"  You  would  not  prohibit  that?  " 

"  I  would  prohibit  the  nihilists  even  think- 
ing of  schools;  but,  under  the  guidance  of  the 
priesthood,  and  with  proper  supervision  over 
the  priesthood, — I  would  establish  them  my- 
self!" 

"  Would  you  really!  Well,  I  do  not  know 
what  I  shall  do  this  year.  Everything  went  so 
badly  last  year. — And  what  is  the  school  in  sum- 
mer, anyway?  " 

When  Marianna  spoke  she  gradually  flushed, 
as  though  her  speech  cost  her  an  eiFort,  as  though 

1  That  is,  received  no  promotion  or  order — or  something  less 
than  his  expectations. — Tbanslator. 

68 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

she  were  forcing  herself  to  go  on  with  it.     She 
had  a  great  deal  of  pride. 

"Thou  art  not  sufficiently  prepared?  "—in- 
quired Madame  Sipyagin,  with  an  ironical 
tremor  in  her  voice. 

"  Possibly." 

"  What!  "—exclaimed  KallomyeitzefF,  again. 
— "  What  do  I  hear!  O  ye  gods!  In  order  to 
teach  little  peasant  girls  their  a  b  cs,  training  is 
requisite?  " 

But  at  that  moment  Kolya  rushed  into  the 
drawing-room  with  a  shout:  "Mamma!  mam- 
ma! papa  is  coming!  "  and  behind  him,  waddling 
on  her  fat  legs,  a  grey-haired  woman  in  a  mob 
cap  and  a  yellow  shawl  made  her  appearance— 
and  also  announced  that  Borinka  would  be 
there  directly. 

This  lady  was  Sipyagin's  aunt,  Anna  Zakha- 
rovna  by  name. — All  the  persons  in  the  drawing- 
room  sprang  from  their  seats,  and  hastened  into 
the  anteroom,  and  thence  ran  down  the  steps 
upon  the  principal  j^orch.  A  long  avenue  of 
chpped  fir-trees  led  from  the  highway  straight 
to  this  porch:  along  it  an  open  carriage,  drawn 
by  four  horses,  was  already  rolling. — Valentina 
Mikhailovna,  who  stood  in  advance  of  the  rest, 
waved  her  handkerchief.  Kolya  screamed  shrilly ; 
the  coachman  adroitly  drew  up  the  smoking 
horses,  the  footman  flew  head  over  heels  from  the 
box,  and  came  near  tearing  the  carriage-door  out 

69 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

with  its  hinges  and  lock— and  then,  with  a  gra- 
cious smile  on  his  lips,  in  his  eyes,  over  all  his 
face,  flinging  off  his  cloak  with  a  dexterous 
movement  of  the  shoulders,  Boris  Andreitch 
alighted  on  the  ground.  Valentina  Mikhailovna 
flung  her  arms  around  his  neck  gracefully  and 
swiftly — and  they  exchanged  three  kisses.  Kolya 
danced  up  and  down,  and  tugged  at  the  tails  of 
his  father's  coat  from  behind  ....  but  the  lat- 
ter first  kissed  Anna  Zakharovna,  having  pre- 
liminarily removed  his  extremely  uncomforta- 
ble and  hideous  Scotch  travelling  cap  from  his 
head;  then  he  exchanged  greetings  with  Mari- 
anna  and  Kallomyeitzeff,  who  had  also  come 
out  on  the  porch—  (to  Kallomyeitzeff  he  gave  a 
hearty  English  handshake,  "  pump-handle  fash- 
ion " — as  though  he  were  ringing  a  bell)  — and 
only  then  did  he  turn  to  his  son;  he  shook  him 
under  the  armpits,  lifted  him  up,  and  held  him 
close  to  his  face. 

While  all  this  was  taking  place,  Nezhdanoff 
crawled  quietly,  and  like  a  culprit,  out  of  the  car- 
riage, and  stopped  short  beside  the  front  wheel, 
without  taking  off  his  hat,  and  casting  sidelong 

glances Valentina    Mikhailovna,    having 

embraced  her  husband,  darted  a  keen  glance  over 
his  shoulder  at  this  new  figure;— Sipyagin  had 
informed  her  that  he  would  bring  a  tutor  with 
him. 

Continuing  to  exchange  greetings  and  hand- 

70 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

clasps,  the  whole  party  moved  up  the  steps,  along 
both  sides  of  which  the  men  and  maid-servants 
were  ranged  in  rows. — They  did  not  approach  to 
kiss  their  master's  hand — that  "  Asiatic  custom  " 
had  long  since  been  done  away  with — and  merely 
bowed  respectfully;  but  Sipyagin  replied  to  their 
bows  more  with  his  brows  and  his  nose  than  with 
his  head. 

NezhdanofF  also  made  his  way  up  the  broad 
steps.  As  soon  as  he  entered  the  anteroom, 
Sipyagin,  who  had  already  been  seeking  him  with 
his  eyes,  introduced  him  to  his  wife,  to  Anna 
Zaldiarovna,  and  to  Marianna;  but  to  Kolya  he 
said:  "  This  is  thy  teacher,  I  beg  that  thou  wilt 
be  obedient  to  him!  Give  him  thy  hand!  " — Ko- 
lya timidly  offered  his  hand  to  XezhdanofF,  then 
riveted  his  eyes  on  him;  but  evidently,  not  find- 
ing  in  him  anything  particular  or  agreeable,  he 
again  seized  hold  of  his  "  papa." — NezhdanofF 
felt  awkward,  exactly  as  he  had  in  the  theatre. 
He  wore  an  old,  decidedly  unsightly  overcoat; 
the  dust  of  the  road  had  settled  all  over  his  face 
and  hands. — Valentina  Mikhailovna  said  some- 
thing pleasant  to  him;  but  he  did  not  clearly 
distinguish  her  words,  and  made  no  reply, 
merely  noticing,  that  she  gazed  at  her  husband 
with  peculiar  brilliancy,  and  pressed  close  to  him. 
— He  was  displeased  by  Kolya's  curled  and  po- 
maded locks;  at  the  sight  of  KallomyeitzefF  he 
thought:  "What  a  smoothly-licked  phiz!"— and 

n 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

to  the  other  persons  he  paid  no  attention  what- 
ever. Sipyagin  turned  his  head  around  with 
dignity,  a  couple  of  times,  as  though  taking  a 
survey  of  his  penates,  during  which  operation, 
his  long,  pendulous  side-whiskers  and  his  thick, 
small  nape  stood  out  with  special  distinctness. — 
Then,  in  a  strong,  luscious  voice,  which  had  not 
been  rendered  in  the  least  hoarse  by  the  journey, 
he  called  to  one  of  the  lackeys:  "  Ivan!  Con- 
duct Mr.  Teacher  to  the  green  chamber,  and 
carry  his  trunk  up  there  also " — and  he  an- 
nounced to  Nezhdanoff,  that  he  might  now  rest 
and  get  unpacked  and  cleaned  up— and  that 
dinner  was  served  in  their  house  promptly  at  five 
o'clock.  Nezhdanoff  bowed,  and  followed  Ivan 
to  the  "  green  "  room,  which  was  situated  in  the 
second  story. 

The  whole  company  went  into  the  drawing- 
room.  There  the  greetings  were  repeated  once 
more; — the  half -blind  old  nurse  made  her  ap- 
pearance with  a  reverence.  Out  of  respect  to 
her  age,  Sipyagin  allowed  her  to  kiss  his  hand, 
and  excusing  himself  to  KallomyeitzefF,  with- 
drew into  his  bedroom,  accompanied  by  his  wife. 


72 


VII 

The  clean  and  spacious  chamber,  to  which  the 
servant  conducted  Nezhdanoff,  had  windows 
which  gave  upon  the  garden.  They  were  open, 
and  a  Hght  breeze  was  gently  puffing  out  the 
white  shades:  they  bellied  out  like  sails  rising 
and  then  falling  again.  Athwart  the  ceiling 
golden  reflections  slipped  softly:  a  spring-like 
fresh,  and  rather  damp  odour  filled  the  whole  room. 
— Nezhdanoff  began  by  dismissing  the  servant, 
unpacking  his  things  from  his  trunk,  washing  and 
dressing  himself.  The  journey  had  exhausted 
him;  the  constant  presence,  for  two  whole  daj^s, 
of  a  strange  man, — with  whom  he  had  talked  a 
great  deal,  on  various  subjects,  and  fruitlessly, — 
had  irritated  his  nerves:  something  bitter,  which 
was  not  exactly  tedium,  nor  yet  exactly  malice, 
had  secretly  made  its  way  to  the  very  dej)ths  of 
his  being ;  he  was  enraged  at  his  f  aint-heartedness 
—but  still  his  heart  ached. 

He  went  to  the  window,  and  began  to  gaze 
into  the  garden.  It  was  one  of  the  black-loam 
gardens  of  our  great-grandfathers,  such  as  are 
not  to  be  seen  this  side  of  IVIoscow.— Laid  out  on 
the  long  slope  of  a  steep  hill,  it  consisted  of  four 

73 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

clearly-defined  sections.  In  front  of  the  house, 
for  a  couple  of  hundred  paces,  extended  a  flower- 
garden,  with  straight,  sanded  paths,  clumps  of 
acacias  and  lilacs,  and  circular  "flower-plots"; 
on  the  left,  running  past  the  stable-yard,  to  the 
very  threshing-floor,  stretched  the  fruit-orchard, 
thickly  planted  with  apple-,  pear-,  and  plum-trees, 
currant-bushes  and  raspberry-bushes;  directly 
opposite  the  house,  in  a  huge,  dense  square,  rose 
intersecting  linden  alleys.  On  the  right,  the  view 
was  bounded  by  the  highway,  screened  by  a 
double  row  of  silvery  poplars;  from  behind  the 
cluster  of  weeping  birches  the  steep  roof  of  a  hot- 
house was  visible.  The  whole  garden  was  clothed 
with  the  tender  verdure  of  the  first  beauty  of  the 
spring  blossoming  forth;  the  powerful  summer 
humming  of  the  insects  was  not  yet  to  be  heard ; 
the  young  leaves  were  lisping, — and  finches  were 
singing  somewhere  about,  and  a  couple  of  turtle- 
doves kept  cooing  always  on  the  same  tree,  while 
a  cuckoo  was  uttering  its  note,  and  changing  its 
place  every  time;  and  far  away,  from  be- 
yond the  mill-pond,  there  was  wafted  the 
vehement  croaking  of  the  daws,  resembling  the 
creaking  of  a  multitude  of  cart-wheels.  And 
over  all  this  young,  solitary,  quiet  life  floated 
the  bright  clouds,  swelling  out  their  breasts  like 
huge,  lazy  birds. — NezhdanoiF  gazed  and  lis- 
tened, inhaling  the  air  through  his  parted,  chilled 
lips.  .  .  . 

74 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

And  he  seemed  to  feel  more  at  ease;  silence 
descended  upon  him  also. 

And,  in  the  meantime,  down-stairs,  a  conver- 
sation was  in  progress  about  him.  Sipyagin  was 
telling  his  wife  how  he  had  made  his  acquaint- 
ance, and  what  Prince  G.  had  said  to  him,  and 
what  conversations  they  had  indulged  in  during 
the  journey. 

"  A  clever  head!  " — he  repeated, — "  and  with 
knowledge;  he  is  handsome,  it  is  true,  but  thou 
knowest  that  that  counts  for  nothing  with  me; 
at  all  events,  those  people  have  ambition.  Yes, 
and  Kolya  is  too  young;  he  will  not  acquire  any 
folly  from  him." 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  listened  to  her  husband 
with  an  affectionate  and,  at  the  same  time,  a 
sneering  smile,  as  though  he  were  making  confes- 
sion to  her  of  a  rather  strange  but  amusing 
prank;  she  even  seemed  to  find  it  pleasant  that 
her  "  seigneur  et  maitre"  so  steady  a  man  and  so 
important  an  official,  was  still  capable  of  sud- 
denly taking  and  plajdng  a  prank,  just  as  though 
he  had  been  twenty  years  of  age.  As  he  stood 
before  the  mirror,  in  a  snow-white  shirt  and 
sky-blue  suspenders,  Sipyagin  began  to  brush 
his  hair  in  the  English  fashion,  with  two  brushes ; 
— and  Valentina  Mikliailovna,  tucking  her  feet 
up  under  her  on  the  low  Turkish  divan,  began  to 
impart  to  him  a  variety  of  information  concern- 
ing the  household  management,  the  paper  fac- 

75 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

tory,  which,  alas!  was  not  thriving  as  it  should, 
ahout  the  cook,  who  must  be  changed,  about  the 
church,  whose  plaster  had  tumbled  down,  about 
IMarianna,  about  Kallomyeitzeff.  .  .  . 

Unfeigned  confidence  and  concord  reigned  be- 
tween the  married  pair;  they  actually  lived  "in 
love  and  concord,"  as  the  expression  used  to  run 
in  the  olden  days;  and  when  Sipyagin,  having 
completed  his  toilet,  gallantly  asked  Valentina 
INIikhailovna  for  her  "  little  hand,"  when  she  gave 
him  both  hands,  and  looked  on  with  tender  pride, 
as  he  kissed  them  alternately,— the  feeling  which 
was  expressed  on  the  countenances  of  both  was 
a  good  and  upright  feeling,  although  in  her  case 
it  shone  in  eyes  worthy  of  Raphael,  and  in  his  in 
the  plain  "  peepers  "  of  a  general. 

Precisely  at  five  o'clock  Nezhdanoff  went 
down-stairs  to  dinner,  apprised  not  even  by  the 
sound  of  a  bell,  but  by  the  prolonged  roar  of  a 
Chinese  gong.  The  whole  company  was  already 
assembled  in  the  dining-room.  Sipyagin  again 
greeted  him  from  the  heights  of  his  neck-cloth, 
and  pointed  out  his  place  at  table,  between  Anna 
Zakharovna  and  Kolya.  Anna  Zakharovna  was 
a  very  aged  spinster,  the  sister  of  the  deceased 
Sipyagin,  senior;  she  emitted  an  odour  of  cam- 
phor, like  a  garment  which  has  long  been  packed 
awaj%  and  she  had  an  uneasy  and  dejected  aspect. 
She  fulfilled  in  the  house  the  office  of  Kolya's 
valet,  or  governor;  her  wrinkled  face  expressed 

76 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

discontent  when  Nezhdanoff  was  seated  between 
Iier  and  her  nursHng.  Kolya  cast  a  sidelong 
glance  at  his  new  neighbour;  the  clever  boy 
speedily  divined  that  the  teacher  felt  awkward, 
that  he  was  confused ;  and  the  latter  never  raised 
his  eyes,  and  ate  almost  nothing.  This  pleased 
Kolya ;  up  to  that  moment,  he  had  been  afraid  that 
the  teacher  would  turn  out  stern  and  irascible. 
Valentina  Mikhailovna  also  glanced,  from  time 
to  time,  at  NezhdanofF. 

"  He  looks  like  a  student,"— she  said  to  herself, 
— "  and  he  has  not  lived  in  societj^;  but  he  has  an 
interesting  face,  and  hair  of  an  original  colour, 
like  that  of  the  apostle  whom  the  old  Italian  mas- 
ters always  painted  as  red-haired, — and  clean 
hands."  However,  all  the  people  at  the  table 
looked  at  NezhdanofF,  and  were  considerate  of 
him,  so  to  speak,  leaving  him  in  peace,  at  the  out- 
set; he  was  conscious  of  this,  and  was  gratified 
at  it,  and,  at  the  same  time,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  it  made  him  angry.  The  conversation  at 
table  M'as  conducted  by  KallomyeitzefF  and  Si- 
pyagin.  The  discussion  turned  on  the  county 
council,  the  Governor,  the  peasants'  obligation  to 
furnish  posting-horses,  the  land-redemption  agree- 
ments, mutual  acquaintances  in  Petersburg  and 
Moscow,  the  Lyceum  of  Mr.  KatkofF,  which  had 
just  entered  into  operation,  the  difficulty  of  ob- 
taining labourers,  fines  and  damages  to  grain- 
fields  by  grazing  cattle,  and  also  about  Bismarck, 

77 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

about  the  war  of  '66,  and  about  Napoleon  III, 
whom  KallomyeitzefF  pronounced  to  be  a  gallant 
fellow.  The  young  Gentleman  of  the  Imperial 
Bedchamber  expressed  extremely  retrograde 
opinions :  he  talked  so  much  that,  at  last,  he  quoted 
— jestingly,  it  is  true — the  toast  of  a  landed- 
proprietor  of  his  acquaintance  at  a  certain  Name- 
day  banquet:  "I  drink  to  the  only  principles 
which  I  recognise  as  valid,"  this  excited  squire 
had  exclaimed:  "  to  the  knout  and  to  Roederer!  " 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  frowned,  and  re- 
marked at  this  quotation — '^'^  de  tres  mauvais 
gout." — Sipyagin,  on  the  contrary,  expressed 
extremely  liberal  opinions ;  he  politely  and  rather 
negligently  confuted  KallomyeitzefF;  he  even 
mocked  at  him. 

"Your  alarms  on  the  score  of  the  emancipation, 
my  dear  Semyon  Petrovitch," — he  said  to  him, 
among  other  things, — "  remind  me  of  a  memorial 
which  our  most  respected  and  most  amiable  Alex- 
yei  Ivanitch  TveritinoiF  sent  in  1860,  and  which 
he  read  everywhere  in  the  Petersburg  drawing- 
rooms.  It  contained  one  particularly  fine  phrase 
about  how  our  emancipated  peasant  would  in- 
fallibly march,  torch  in  hand,  over  the  face  of  the 
entire  fatherland.  You  ought  to  have  seen  how 
our  dearest  Alexyei  Ivanitch,  puffing  out  his  little 
cheeks,  and  with  his  little  eyes  popping  out  of 
his  head,  uttered  with  his  infantile  mouth :  '  a 
torch !  a  torch !  he   will  march  with   a  torch ! ' 

78 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Well,  and  the  emancipation  has  been  accom- 
plished. .  .  .  But  where  is  the  peasant  with  his 
torch?" 

"  TveritinofF," — retorted  Kallomyeitzeff,  in  a 
gloomy  tone, — "  was  mistaken  only  on  this  point, 
that  it  is  not  the  peasants,  but  other  people,  who 
are  going  about  with  torches." 

At  these  words  Nezhdanoff,  who  up  to  that 
moment  had  hardly  noticed  Marianna, — she  was 
sitting  obliquely  opposite  him,— suddenly  ex- 
changed a  glance  with  her,  and  immediately  felt 
that  they  two,  the  sullen  girl  and  himself,  were 
of  one  mind  and  one  stamp.  She  had  made  no 
impression  whatever  upon  him  when  Sij^yagin 
had  introduced  him  to  her;  why  had  he  now  ex- 
changed glances  precisely  with  her?  He  imme- 
diately put  the  question  to  himself:  Was  it  not 
shameful,  was  it  not  disgraceful  to  sit  and  listen 
to  such  opinions,  and  not  to  protest,  and  to  give, 
by  one's  silence,  occasion  to  think  that  one  shared 
them?  Nezhdanoff  cast  a  second  glance  at  Mari- 
anna, and  it  seemed  to  him  that  in  her  eyes  he  read 
the  answer  to  his  question:  "  Wait;  the  time  has 
not  yet  come  ...  it  is  not  worth  while  .... 
later  there  will  be  plenty  of  opportunity.  .  .  ." 

It  was  pleasant  to  him  to  think  that  she  under- 
stood him.  Again  he  began  to  lend  an  ear  to  the 
conversation.  .  .  .  Valentina  Mikhailovna  came 
to  her  husband's  support,  and  expressed  herself 
even  more  freely,  in  an  even  more  radical  manner 

79 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

than  he  had  done.  She  did  not  comprehend, 
"  positively  she  did  not  com  .  .  .  pre  .... 
hend,"  how  a  young  and  well-educated  man  could 
cling  to  such  an  antiquated  routine ! 

"  But," — she  added, — "  I  am  convinced  that 
you  only  say  that  for  the  sake  of  making  a  fine 
phrase.  As  for  jou,  Alexyei  Dmitritch," — she 
turned  to  NezhdanoiF  with  an  amiable  smile  (he 
was  inwardly  amazed  that  she  should  be  ac- 
quainted with  his  name  and  patronym), — "I 
know  that  you  do  not  share  the  apprehensions  of 
Semyon  Petrovitch;  Boris  has  communicated  to 
me  your  conversations  with  him  on  the  journey." 

Nezhdanoff  crimsoned,  bent  over  his  plate,  and 
muttered  something  unintelligible:  he  was  not 
exactly  abashed,  but  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
bandying  repartee  with  such  brilliant  personages. 
Madame  Sipyagin  continued  to  smile  upon  him; 
her  husband  graciously  seconded  her.  .  .  On  the 
other  hand,  KallomyeitzefF,  with  much  delibera- 
tion, stuck  his  round  eye-glass  between  his  eye- 
brow and  his  nose,  and  stared  at  the  student  who 
dared  not  state  his  "  apprehensions." — But  it  was 
difficult  to  disconcert  Nezhdanoff  in  that  way; 
on  the  contrary:  he  immediately  straightened  him- 
self up  and  stared,  in  his  turn,  at  the  fashionable 
official; — and  just  as  suddenly  as  he  had  felt  a 
comrade  in  Marianna,  did  he  divine  an  enemy 
in  Kallomyeitzeff !  And  Kallomyeitzeff  divined 
it  also ;  he  dropped  his  little  piece  of  glass,  turned 

80 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

away,  and  tried  to  turn  it  off  with  a  laugh  .  .  . 
but  it  was  not  a  success ;  only  Anna  Zakharovna, 
who  secretly  adored  him,  mentally  stood  on  his 
side,  and  became  still  more  enraged  at  her  un- 
invited neighbour,  who  had  separated  her  from 
Kolya. 

Soon  afterward  the  dinner  came  to  an  end. 
The  company  passed  out  on  the  terrace  to  drink 
coffee;  Sipyagin  and  Kallomyeitzeff  lighted 
cigars.  Sipyagin  offered  a  genuine  regalia  to 
Xezhdanoff ,  but  the  latter  declined  it. 

"Akh!   yes!" — exclaimed    Sipyagin;   "I   had 
forgotten: — you  smoke  only  cigarettes!  " 

"  A  strange  taste," — observed  Kallomyeitzeff, 
between  his  teeth. 

Nezhdanoff  came  near  flying  into  a  passion. — 
"  I  know  the  difference  between  a  regalia  and  a 
cigarette  very  well,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  lay  my- 
self under  obligations," — was  on  the  point  of 
bursting  from  his  tongue.  .  .  .  He  restrained 
himself ;  but  he  immediately  set  down  this  second 
piece  of  impertinence  to  the  "  debit  "  account  of 
his  enemy. 

"Marianna!"  said  Madame  Sipyagin  sud- 
denly, in  a  loud  voice: — "  do  not  stand  on  cere- 
mony before  the  newcomer  .  .  .  light  up  thy  lit- 
tle cigarette,  for  heaven's  sake!  The  more  so," — 
she  added,  addressing  Nezhdanoff, — "  as  I  have 
heard,  all  the  young  ladies  smoke  in  your  sphere 
of  society." 

81 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Just  so,  madame,"  replied  Nezhdanoff ,  drily. 
—  This  was  the  first  word  he  had  uttered  to  Ma- 
dame Sipyagin. 

"  But  I  do  not  smoke,"— she  went  on,  amiably 
narrowing  her  velvety  eyes.  .  .  "  I  am  behind  the 
times." 

iSIarianna  slowly  and  with  much  precision, 
as  though  with  the  object  of  enraging  her 
aunt,  drew  out  a  dainty  cigarette  and  a  match- 
box, and  began  to  smoke.  Nezhdanoff  also 
ligthed  a  cigarette,  borrowing  a  light  from 
Marianna. 

It  was  a  wonderfully  beautiful  evening. 
Kolya  went  off  into  the  garden  with  Anna  Za- 
kharovna;  the  remainder  of  the  party  remained 
for  about  an  hour  longer  on  the  terrace,  enjoying 
the  air.  The  conversation  progressed  in  a  toler- 
ably lively  manner.  .  .  .  KallomyeitzefF  made  an 
attack  on  literature;  in  this  direction,  also,  Si- 
pyagin showed  himself  to  be  a  liberal,  defended 
its  independence,  demonstrated  its  value,  even  al- 
luded to  Chateaubriand,  and  to  the  fact  that  the 
Emperor  Alexander  Pavlovitch  had  conferred 
upon  him  the  Order  of  Saint  Andrew  the  First- 
Called.^  Nezhdanoff  did  not  intermeddle  in  this 
controversy.  JMadame  Sipyagin  regarded  him 
with  an  expression  which  seemed  to  indicate,  on 
the  one  hand,  that  she  approved  his  modest  self- 

^  Usually  conferred  only  upon  male  members  of  the  Imperial 
Family,  and  on  a  few  foreign  rulers,  almost  exclusively  royal.— 
Translator. 

82 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

restraint,  and  on  the  other  hand— was  a  little  sur- 
prised at  it. 

They  all  went  into  the  drawing-room  for  tea. 

"  We  have  a  very  bad  habit  in  our  house,  Alex- 
yei  Dmitritch,"— said  Sipyagin  to  NezhdanofF: 
"  in  the  evening  we  play  cards,  and  a  forbidden 
game  at  that  ....  slam, — just  fancy!— I  do 
not  invite  you  ....  but  Marianna  will  be  so 
good  as  to  play  something  for  us  on  the  piano. 
For  you  are  fond  of  music,  I  hope,  are  you  not?  " 
And,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  Sipyagin 
took  the  pack  of  cards  in  his  hand.  Marianna 
seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  played,  neither 
well  nor  badly,  several  of  Mendelssohn's  "  Songs 
without  Words." — "  Chai'mant!  Cliarmant! 
Quel  touclie! "  cried  KallomyeitzefF  from  a  dis- 
tance, as  though  scalded;  but  this  exclamation 
was  uttered  chiefly  out  of  politeness;  and  Nezh- 
danofF, despite  the  hope  expressed  by  Sipyagin, 
had  no  liking  whatever  for  music. 

In  the  meantime,  Sipyagin,  with  his  wife,  Kal- 
lomyeitzeff ,  and  Anna  Zakharovna,  sat  down  to 
play  cards. . .  Kolya  came  to  say  good-night,  and 
having  received  his  parents'  blessing,  and  a  big 
glass  of  milk  instead  of  tea,  went  off  to  bed ;  his 
father  shouted  after  him,  that  he  was  to  begin 
his  lessons  with  Alexyei  Dmitritch  on  the  morrow. 
A  little  later,  perceiving  that  NezhdanofF  was 
hanging  about  unoccupied  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  constrainedly  turning  over  the  leaves 

83 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

of  the  photograph-album,  Sipyagin  told  him  not 
to  stand  on  ceremonj^  but  to  go  to  his  own  room 
and  rest,  as  he  was  probably  fatigued  with  the 
journey;  that  the  principal  motto  in  their  house 
was:  liberty. 

Nezhdanoff  availed  himself  of  the  permission 
and,  after  making  his  bow  to  them  all,  he  left  the 
room ;  at  the  door  he  came  face  to  face  with  JNIari- 
anna,  and  on  looking  her  once  more  in  the  eye, 
once  more  he  became  convinced  that  he  and  she 
w^ould  be  good  comrades,  although  she  not  only  did 
not  smile  at  him,  but  even  contracted  her  brows. 

He  found  his  room  completely  filled  with  the 
fragrant  freshness;  the  windows  had  stood  open 
all  day  long.  In  the  garden,  directly  opposite 
his  windows,  a  nightingale  was  trilling  softly  and 
melodiously;  the  nocturnal  sky  beamed  dim  and 
warm  with  beauty  above  the  crests  of  the  linden- 
trees  ;  the  moon  was  on  the  verge  of  rising.  Nezh- 
danoff lighted  a  candle ;  the  grey  nocturnal  moths 
fairly  showered  in  from  the  dark  garden  and 
made  for  the  light,  circling  round,  and  coming 
into  collision  with  one  another,  but  the  breeze  blew 
them  awaj'-,  and  made  the  bluish-yellow  flame  of 
the  candle  flicker. 

"It  is  strange!"  thought  Nezhdanoff,  as  he 
got  into  bed.  ..."  The  master  and  mistress  of 
the  house  are  nice  people,  apparently,  liberal, 
even  humane;  ....  but  I  feel  sad  in  my  soul, 
somehow.     An  Imperial  Chamberlain,  ....  a 

84 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Gentleman  of  the  Emperor's  Bedchamber.  .  .  . 
Well,  the  morning  is  wiser  than  the  evening.  .  .  . 
There  's  no  occasion  for  growing  sentimental." 

But  at  that  moment  the  watchman  beat  loudly 
and  persistently  on  his  plank  in  the  garden— 
and  his  long-drawn  shout  rang  out:  "Lis  .  . 
te  .  e  .  .  en! " 

"  Wa-a-a-atch !  " — responded  another  mourn- 
ful voice. 

"  Phew,  great  God!— exactly  as  though  it  were 
a  fortress ! " 


VIII 

Nezhdanoff  awoke  early,  and  without  waiting 
for  the  servant  to  make  his  appearance,  he  dressed 
himself,  and  descended  into  the  garden.  It  was 
very  large  and  beautiful,  and  was  kept  in  capi- 
tal order ;  hired  labourers  were  scraping  the  paths 
with  spades;  amid  the  dark-green  of  the  shrub- 
bery flashed  scarlet  kerchiefs  on  the  heads  of 
peasant  lasses  armed  with  rakes.  NezhdanoiF 
made  his  way  to  the  pond ;  the  morning  mist  had 
cleared  away  from  it,— but  it  was  still  smoking 
in  places  in  the  shady  curves  of  the  shores.  The 
sun,  which  was  not  high  yet,  cast  a  rosy  light  over 
the  silky  leaden  hue  of  its  broad  surface.  Five 
carpenters  were  at  work  on  the  dam;  there  also, 
lightly  swaying  from  side  to  side,  and  sending 
out  from  itself  a  faint  ripple  across  the  water,  a 
new,  handsomely  painted  boat  was  rocking.  The 
sounds  of  the  people's  voices  were  infrequent 
and  repressed;  over  all  there  was  a  breath  of 
morning,  of  the  tranquillity  and  success  of  ma- 
tutinal labour,  a  breath  of  order  and  a  regularly 
organised  life.  And  lo!  at  a  turn  of  the  avenue, 
the  2)ersonification  of  order  and  regularity  pre- 
sented itself  to  Nezhdanoif— Sipyagin  himself 
made  his  appearance.     He  wore  a  yellow-grey 

86 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

coat,  in  form  like  a  dressing-gown,  and  a  party- 
coloured  cap ;  he  was  leaning  on  an  English  cane 
of  bamboo,  and  his  freshly-shaved  face  exhaled 
satisfaction;  he  was  walking  about  to  inspect  his 
domain.  Sipyagin  gave  NezhdanofF  a  courteous 
greeting. 

"Alia!  " — he  exclaimed; — "  I  perceive  that  you 
are  one  of  the  young  people,  and  an  early  bird!  " 
He  probably  wished,  by  this  not  particularly  ap- 
propriate saying,  to  express  his  approval  of  Nezh- 
danoiF,  because  the  latter,  like  himself,  did  not 
lie  late  in  bed. — "We  drink  tea  in  company  at 
eight  o'clock,  in  the  dining-room,  and  at  twelve 
o'clock,  we  breakfast ;  at  ten  o'clock,  you  will  give 
Kolya  his  first  lesson  in  the  Russian  language, 
and  at  two,  in  history.  To-morrow,  the  ninth  of 
May,  is  his  Name-day,  and  there  will  be  no  les- 
sons; but  I  beg  that  you  will  begin  to-day!  " 

NezhdanoiF  inclined  his  head,  and  Sipyagin 
took  leave  of  liim  in  the  French  manner,  raising 
his  hand  swiftly  several  times  in  succession  to  his 
own  lips  and  nose — and  went  his  way,  adroitly 
flourishing  his  cane,  and  whistling— not  in  the 
least  like  an  important  official  or  dignitary, — but 
like  a  kindly  Russian  country  gentleman. 

NezhdanofF  remained  in  the  garden  until  eight 
o'clock,  enjoying  the  shade  of  the  ancient  trees, 
the  freshness  of  the  air,  the  singing  of  the  birds ; 
the  roar  of  the  gong  summoned  him  to  the  house 
—and  he  found  the  whole  company  in  the  dining- 

87 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

room.  Valentina  Mikhailovna  treated  him  in  an 
extremely  amiable  manner;  in  her  morning  toi- 
let she  seemed  to  him  a  perfect  beauty.  Mari- 
anna's  face  expressed  her  wonted  concentration 
and  surliness.  Precisely  at  ten  o'clock  the  first 
lesson  took  place,  in  the  presence  of  Valentina 
INIikhailovna ;  she  first  inquired  of  NezhdanofF 
whether  she  would  not  be  in  the  way,  and  she 
behaved  very  discreetly  throughout.  Kolya 
proved  to  be  an  intelligent  lad;  after  the  inevit- 
able first  hesitations  and  awkwardnesses,  the  les- 
son proceeded  successfully.  Valentina  INIildiai- 
lovna  appeared  to  be  extremely  well  satisfied  with 
NezhdanofF,  and  several  times  entered  into  con- 
versation with  him.— He  hung  back,  but  not  too 
much.  Valentina  Mikhailovna  was  present,  also, 
at  the  second  lesson  in  Russian  history.  She  an- 
nounced with  a  smile,  that  on  that  subject  she 
needed  a  teacher  as  much  as  Kolya  did— and  be- 
haved herself  as  decorously  and  as  quietly  as  at 
the  first  lesson.  From  three  until  five  o'clock 
Nezhdanoff  sat  in  his  own  chamber,  wrote  letters 
to  Petersburg,  and — and  felt  himself  .  .  .  so-so; 
he  was  not  bored,  he  was  not  sad;  his  strained 
nerves  were  gradually  relaxing.  They  became 
strained  again  during  dinner,  although  Kallo- 
myeitzeff  was  absent,  and  the  caressing  kindness 
of  the  hostess  had  undergone  no  change ;  but  that 
very  kindness  somewhat  enraged  Nezhdanoff.— 
In  addition  to  this,  his  neighbour,  the  old  spinster, 

88 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Anna  Zakharovna,  was  openly  hostile  and  in  the 
sulks,  while  Marianna  continued  to  be  serious, 
and  Kolya  kicked  him  with  his  feet  with  alto- 
gether too  much  lack  of  ceremony.  Sipyagin, 
also,  appeared  to  be  out  of  sorts.  He  was  greatly 
dissatisfied  with  the  superintendent  of  his  paper- 
factory,  a  German,  whom  he  had  hired  at  a  large 
salary.  Sipyagin  began  to  abuse  all  Germans  in 
general,  in  which  connection  he  announced  that 
he  was,  to  a  certain  degree,  a  Slavyanophil,  al- 
though not  a  fanatic,  and  he  alluded  to  a  young 
Russian,  a  certain  Solomin,  who,  according  to 
report,  had  put  the  factory  of  a  neighbouring 
merchant  on  a  very  good  footing;  he  greatly  de- 
sired to  make  the  acquaintance  of  this  Solomin. 
Toward  evening,  Kallomyeitzeff  arrived,  his  es- 
tate being  only  ten  miles  distant  from  "  Ar- 
zhanoe  " ;  that  was  the  name  of  Sipyagin's  vil- 
lage. The  arbitrator  of  the  peace  arrived  also, 
one  of  those  landed  proprietors  whom  Lermon- 
toff  has  no  neatly  characterised  in  the  two  famil- 
iar lines : 

All  hidden  in  his  neckcloth,  with  frock-coat  to  his 

heels.   •   . 
Moustache,  falsetto — and  troubled  gaze. 

There  came  also  another  neighbour,  with  a  de- 
jected, toothless  countenance,  but  very  cleanly 
dressed ;  the  district  doctor  came,  a  very  wretched 
physician,   who   was   fond   of  showing   off  his 

89 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

learned  terminology;  he  asserted,  for  example, 
that  he  preferred  Kukolnik  to  Pushkin,  because 
Kukolnik  had  a  great  deal  of  "  protoplasm." 
They  sat  down  to  play  slam.  Nezhdanoff  retired 
to  his  own  room— and  read  and  wrote  until  after 
midnight. 

On  the  following  day,  the  ninth  of  May, 
Kolya's  Name-day  was  celebrated.  The  "  gen- 
try," in  a  mass,  in  three  open  carriages,  wdth  lack- 
eys on  the  foot-board,  set  out  to  attend  the  Lit- 
urgy, although  the  church  was  not  more  tlian  a 
quarter  of  a  verst  away.  Everything  went  off  in 
very  ceremonious,  stately,  and  sumptuous  style. 
Sipyagin  donned  his  Order-ribbon;  Valentma 
INIikhailovna  dressed  herself  in  a  very  charming 
Paris  gown— pale  lilac  in  hue— and  in  church, 
during  the  service,  she  prayed  out  of  a  tiny  book, 
bound  in  crimson  velvet;  this  little  book  took 
some  of  the  old  men  aback ;  one  of  them  could  not 
control  himself,  and  inquired  of  his  neighbour: 
"  Is  she  practising  witchcraft,  the  Lord  forgive 
her!  "  ^  The  fragrance  of  the  flowers  with  which 
the  church  w^as  filled,  mingled  with  the  strong 
scent  of  the  new  sulphur-dipped  peasant  coats, 
the  tarred  boots  and  peasants'  shoes— and  over 
all  these  exhalations  the  stiflingly-agreeable  per- 
fume of  the  incense  predominated.  The  clerics 
and  sacristans  in  the  chancel-choirs  sang  with 

1  The  members  of  the  Eastern  Catholic  Church  do  not  use 
prayer-books,  being  trained  to  know  the  services  by  heart  from 
early  childhood. — Teakslatob. 

90 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

wonderful  assiduity.  With  the  aid  of  the  factory- 
hands,  who  had  joined  them,  they  even  made  a 
bold  attempt  at  a  concert.^  There  was  a  minute 
when  all  present  felt  rather  ....  apprehensive. 
The  tenor  voice  (it  belonged  to  the  factory-hand 
Klim,a  man  with  the  worst  form  of  consumption) 
emitted,  without  any  sort  of  support  whatever, 
chromatic,  minor,  and  flat  notes:— they  were  hor- 
rible, those  notes!  but  if  they  had  been  elimin- 
ated the  entire  "  concert "  would  instantly  have 
gone  to  pieces.  .  .  .  As  it  was,  the  affair  passed 
oiF  well  enough.  Father  Kyprian,  a  priest  of  the 
most  venerable  appearance,  with  epigonation  and 
berretta  ^  preached  a  very  edifying  sermon  out  of 
his  note-book;  unliappily,  the  zealous  father  con- 
sidered it  necessary  to  quote  the  names  of  several 
very  wise  Assyrian  kings,  which  gave  him  great 
trouble  as  to  pronunciation — and,  although  he 
displayed  a  certain  amount  of  learning,  still 
he  also  perspired  violently!  NezhdanofF,  who 
had  not  been  to  church  for  a  long  time,  tucked 
himself  away  in  a  corner  behind  the  peasant 
women;    they    merely    gazed    askance    at    him, 

^  At  a  certain  point  in  the  Liturgy — when  the  clergy  are  re- 
ceiving the  Sacrament  in  the  altar,  behind  the  closed  doors  of  the 
ikonostasis,  and  nothing  is  in  progress  in  the  sight  or  hearing  of 
the  congregation — it  is  customary  for  the  choir  to  sing  an  elabo- 
rate   selection,    generally   called    a    "  concert." — Translator. 

2  Both  are  insignia  of  ecclesiastical  rank.  The  epigonation  is  a 
square  or  diamond-shaped  piece  of  material  corresponding  to  the 
cope,  representing  "the  sword  of  the  Spirit,"  and  is  worn  on  the  hijx 
The  berretta,  of  purple  velvet,  also  has  two  shapes,  indicative  of  rank, 
the  lesser  being  conical.  — Translator. 

91 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

from  time  to  time,  making  profound  reverences, 
and  gravely  wiping  their  children's  noses;  on  the 
other  hand,  the  little  peasant  girls,  in  their  new 
frocks,  with  pearl  fringes  on  their  brows,  and  the 
little  boys,  in  their  blouses  girt  about  the  waist, 
and  their  embroidered  shoulder-seams  and  scarlet 
gussets,  attentively  scrutinised  the  new  worship- 
per, turning  their  faces  straight  toward  him.  .  .  , 
And  NezhdanofF  gazed  at  them,  and  thought — 
various  things. 

After  the  Liturgy,  which  lasted  a  very  long 
time,  and  the  prayer-service  to  St.  Nicholas 
the  Wonderworker,  which,  as  every  one  knows, 
is  about  the  most  lengthy  of  all  the  prayer-services 
in  the  Orthodox  Church,  the  entire  staff  of 
clergy,  by  invitation  of  Sipyagin,  betook  them- 
selves to  the  manor-house,  and,  after  performing 
several  more  ceremonies  befitting  the  occasion, 
and  even  sprinkling  the  rooms  with  holy  water, 
received  an  abundant  breakfast,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  customary  hopeful  but  rather  tiresome 
conversation  took  place.  Both  the  host  and  the 
hostess — although  they  never  breakfasted  at  that 
hour  of  the  day — ate  a  little  and  sipped  a  little 
on  that  occasion.  Sipyagin  even  narrated  an 
anecdote,  perfectly  decorous,  but  laughable — 
which,  in  combination  with  his  red  ribbon  and  his 
official  dignity,  produced  an  impression  that  may 
be  described  as  joyous,  and  aroused  in  Father 
Kyprian  a  feeling  of  gratitude  and  admiration. 

92 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

By  way  of  "  recompense,"  and  also  in  order  to 
show  that  he  also,  on  occasion,  could  impart  some- 
thing curious,  Father  Kyprian  told  about  his  in- 
terview with  "  the  prelate,"  when  the  latter,  in 
his  trip  of  inspection  through  the  diocese,  sum- 
moned all  the  priests  of  the  district  to  him  to  the 
monastery  in  the  town.  — "  Our  Bishop  is  strict, 
very  strict," — declared  Father  Kyprian: — "  First 
he  inquires  about  the  parish  and  the  arrangement 
of  affairs,  and  then  he  puts  you  through  an  exam- 
ination. .  .  .  He  addressed  himself  to  me,  also. 
—'What  's  thy  church  feast? '—' The  Trans- 
figuration of  the  Lord,'  says  I. — '  And  dost  thou 
know  the  hymn  for  that  day? ' — 'I  should  think 
I  did! '-'Chant  it! '-'Well,  so  I  immediately 
started  up:  "Thou  wast  transfigured  on  the 
Mount,  O  Christ  our  God.  .  .  ."  '  '  Stop!  What 
is  the  Transfiguration,  and  how  is  it  to  be 
understood?' — 'In  one  word,'  says  I,  'Christ 
desired  to  show  his  glory  to  his  '  disciples ! ' 
—  'Good,'  savs  he;  'here's  an  ikona  for  thee 
from  me,  as  a  souvenir.' — I  bowed  to  his 
feet. — 'I  thank  thee,  Right  Reverence!'  says 
I.  .  .  And  so  I  did  not  leave  him  empty- 
handed." 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be  personally  acquainted 
with  his  Right  Reverence,"— remarked  Sipyagin, 
with  an  air  of  importance. — "  A  most  worthy 
pastor!  " 

"Most  worthy!" — assented  Father  Kyprian. 

93 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Only,  there  's  no  use  in  his  trusting  too  much 
to  the  ecclesiastical  superintendent.  .  .  ." 

Valentina  JNIikhailovna  alluded  to  the  peasant 
school,  and  in  this  connection,  pointed  out  Mari- 
anna  as  a  future  teacher;  the  deacon  (he  was 
intrusted  with  the  oversight  of  the  school)  ;— a 
man  of  athletic  build,  and  with  a  long,  wavy  head 
of  hair,  which  dimly  suggested  the  well-combed 
tail  of  an  Orloff  trotter,  was  on  the  point  of  ex- 
pressing his  approbation;  but  as  he  did  not  take 
the  powers  of  his  throat  into  consideration,  he 
produced  such  a  deep  quack,  that  he  fright- 
ened even  himself,  and  terrified  the  rest. — 
Shortly  after  this,  the  clergy  withdrew. 

Kolya,  in  his  new  round  jacket  with  gold  but- 
tons, was  the  hero  of  the  day:  he  received  pres- 
ents, he  was  congratulated,  his  hand  was  kissed 
from  the  front  steps  and  from  the  back  steps :  the 
factory-hands,  the  house-servants,  the  old  women 
and  the  young  girls,  the  peasant  men— chiefly 
out  of  ancient  tradition  of  serfdom  days— buzzed 
about  in  front  of  the  house,  around  the  tables 
spread  with  patties  and  flagons  of  liquor.— Kolya 
was  both  ashamed  and  delighted,  and  proud  and 
abashed,  and  he  cuddled  up  to  his  parents,  and 
ran  out  of  the  room ;  and  at  dinner  Sipyagin  or- 
dered champagne  to  be  served, — and,  before 
drinking  to  his  son's  health,  he  made  a  speech. 
He  spoke  about  the  significance  of  "  serving  the 
earth,"— and  along  what  road  he  would  like  to 

94 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

have  his  Nikolai  walk!  ...  (he  called  him  pre- 
cisely that)  —and  what  they  had  a  right  to  ex- 
pect from  him:  in  the  first  place,  his  family,  in 
the  second  place,  his  social  class,  society;  in  the 
third  place,  the  masses, — j'^es,  my  dear  sirs,  the 
masses,— and,  in  the  fourth  place,  the  govern- 
ment! Gradually  elevating  his  style,  Sipyagin 
at  last  attained  to  genuine  eloquence,  and 
therewith,  after  the  similitude  of  Robert  Peel,  he 
thrust  his  hand  under  his  coat-tails;  he  became 
touched  with  emotion  over  the  word  "  science," 
and  wound  up  his  speech  with  the  Latin  excla- 
mation :  "  Laboremus! "  which  he  immediately 
translated  into  Russian.  Kolya,  champagne- 
glass  in  hand,  walked  down  the  whole  length  of 
the  table  to  thank  his  father,  and  kissed  every- 
body. 

Again  it  happened  that  Nezhdanoif  exchanged 
glances  with  JNIarianna.  .  .  .  Both  of  them,  in  all 
probability,  felt  the  same  thing.  .  .  .  But  they 
did  not  speak  to  each  other. 

However,  everything  which  he  had  seen  struck 
NezhdanofF  as  more  ridiculous  and  even  interest- 
ing, than  vexatious  or  repulsive,  and  the  amiable 
hostess,  Valentina  Mikhailovna,  appeared  to  him 
to  be  a  very  clever  woman  who  knew  that  she  was 
playing  a  part,  and,  at  the  same  time,  was  secretly 
delighted  that  there  was  another  person,  also 
clever  and  perspicacious,  who  understood  her . . . 
NezhdanofF  probably  did  not  himself  suspect,  to 

95 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

what  a  degree  his  self-love  was  flattered  by  her 
manner  of  treating  him. 

On  the  following  day  the  lessons  were  re- 
sumed, and  life  flowed  on  in  its  wonted  rut. 

A  week  passed,  imperceptibly.  .  .  The  very 
best  idea  as  to  what  Nezhdanofl*  felt,  as  to  what 
he  thought,  will  be  furnished  by  an  extract  from 
a  letter  of  his  to  a  certain  Sflin,  a  comrade  of  his 
at  the  gymnasium,  and  his  best  friend.  This  Si- 
lin  did  not  live  in  Petersburg,  but  in  a  distant 
governmental  town  with  a  wealthy  relative,  on 
whom  he  was  entirely  dependent.  His  situation 
had  been  so  ordained  that  he  could  not  even 
dream  of  ever  breaking  away  from  it;  he  was  a 
weakly  man,  timid,  and  of  limited  capacity,  but 
remarkably  pure  in  soul.  He  was  not  interested 
in  politics,  he  perused  a  few  little  books,  he 
played  on  the  flute  to  relieve  the  tedium,  and  was 
afraid  of  young  ladies.  Silin  was  passionately 
attached  to  Nezhdanofl* — he  had  in  general  an 
aff^ectionate  heart.  There  was  no  one  to  whom 
NezhdanofF  so  unrestrainedly  expressed  his 
thoughts  as  to  Vladimir  Sflin;  when  he  wrote  to 
him  it  always  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  chat- 
ting with  a  near  and  familiar  being, — but  an  in- 
habitant of  the  other  world,  or  his  own  conscience. 
NezhdanofF  could  not  even  imagine  to  himself 
how  he  could  ever  again  live  with  Sflin  on 
friendly  terms  in  the  same  town.  .  .  He  would, 
in  all  probability,  have  immediately  cooled  toward 

96 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

him ;  they  had  very  little  in  common ;  but  he  wrote 
to  him  gladly  and  voluminously — and  with  en- 
tire frankness.  With  others — on  paper,  at  least, 
— he  always  seemed  to  be  deceiving  or  putting 
on  airs; — with  Silin — never!  As  he  did  not 
wield  a  ready  pen,  Silin  made  scant  reply  in 
brief,  awkward  phrases;  but  NezhdanofF  did  not 
require  lengthy  answers:  he  knew,  without  that, 
that  his  friend  devoured  his  every  word,  as  the 
dust  of  the  highway  drinks  in  the  spatters  of  rain, 
kept  his  secrets  like  a  holy  thing — and,  buried  in 
remote  and  never-quitted  isolation,  lived  only 
with  his  life.  NezhdanofF  had  never  told  any 
one  in  the  world  of  his  relations  to  him,  and  treas- 
ured them  to  an  uncommon  degree. 

"  Well,  my  dear  friend, — my  pure  Vladimir !  " —  [thus 
he  wrote  to  him :  he  always  called  liim  "  pure,"  and  not 
without  reason!] — "congratulate  me:  I  have  hit  upon 
green  pastures,  and  can  now  rest  and  recuperate  my 
strength.  I  am  living  as  tutor,  in  the  house  of  the 
wealthy  dignitary  Sipyagin,  I  am  teaching  his  little 
son,  I  am  eating  splendid  food  (I  never  ate  such  food 
in  my  life),  I  am  sleeping  soundly,  I  am  strolling  to  rny 
heart's  content  in  the  beautiful  surrounding  country — 
and,  the  chief  thing  of  all:  I  have  escaped,  for  a  time, 
from  the  tutelage  of  my  Petersburg  friends;  and  al- 
though at  first  I  was  fiercely  gnawed  by  tedium,  I  seem 
to  feel  more  at  my  ease  now.  I  shall  speedily  be  com- 
pelled to  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  which  thou  know- 
est,  that  is  to  say,  to  crawl  into  the  pannier,  as  I  have 

97 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

offered  myself  as  the  load  (and  that  Is  precisely  the 
reason  why  I  was  given  leave  of  absence  to  come  hither)  ; 
but  for  the  time  being  I  may  live  the  precious  animal 
life,  grow  a  fat  belly — and,  perhaps,  even  compose 
verses,  if  the  desire  impels  me.  The  so-called  observa- 
tions are  postponed  until  another  time:  the  estate  seems 
to  me  well  organised,  only  perhaps  the  factory  is  in 
rather  a  bad  condition ;  the  peasant  lands  bought  at  the 
Emancipation  are,  somehow,  inaccessible;  the  hired 
house-servants  all  are  exceedingly  decorous  characters. 
But  we  will  discuss  that  later  on.  The  master  and  mis- 
tress of  the  house  are  courteous,  liberal;  the  gentleman 
is  forever  condescending,  forever  condescending — and 
then,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  takes  and  flares  up;  a  highly 
cultured  man  !  The  lady — a  regular  beauty,  and  must 
have  her  wits  about  her,  I  think;  she  keeps  such  good 
watch  of  one — and  yet  she  is  so  gentle! — Absolutely 
boneless !  I  amuse  her ;  for  thou  knowest  what  sort  of 
a  squire  of  dames  I  am! — There  are  neighbours — bad 
ones;  one  old  woman  persecutes  me.  .  .  .  But  there  is 
one  young  girl  who  interests  me  most  of  all,  and  whether 
she  is  a  relative  or  a  companion, — the  Lord  only  knows! 
— with  whom  I  have  hardly  exchanged  two  words,  but 
whom  I  divine  to  be  a  berry  from  the  same  field  as  my- 
self  " 

Here  followed  a  description  of  Marianna — of 
all  her  habits ;  and  then  he  went  on : 

"  That  she  is  unhappy,  proud,  egotistical,  reserved, 
but,  most  of  all,  unhappy,  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt. 
Why  she  is  unhappy,— I  have  not,  as  yet,  found  out. 

98 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

That  she  has  an  upright  nature,— is  clear  to  me;  but 
is  she  kind?— that  is  the  question.  And  are  there  any 
thoroughly  kind  women  in  existence — unless  they  are 
stupid  ?  And  is  that  necessary  ?  However,  I  know  very 
little  about  women  in  general.  The  mistress  of  the  house 
does  not  like  her.  .  .  And  she  repays  her  in  the  same 
coin.  .  .  .  But  which  of  them  is  in  the  right — I  know 
not.  I  assume  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  is  more 
likely  not  to  be  in  the  right  ...  as  she  is  extremely 
polite  to  her;  and  she  even  twitches  her  eyebrows  ner- 
vously when  she  talks  with  her  patroness.  Yes;  she  is 
a  very  nervous  creature;  that,  also,  is  in  my  line.  And 
she  is  dislocated,— just  as  I  am, — although,  probably, 
not  in  the  same  manner. 

"  When  all  this  becomes  somewhat  straightened  out, 
I  will  write  to  thee.   .   .   . 

"  She  hardly  ever  talks  with  me,  as  I  have  already  told 
thee;  but  in  her  few  words  addressed  to  me  (always 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly)  there  rings  a  certain  harsh 
frankness.   .   .   .  This  is  very  pleasing  to  me. 

"  By  the  way, — does  thy  relative  still  keep  thee  on  a 
dry  diet — and  is  n't  he  preparing  to  give  up  the  ghost.? 

"  Hast  thou  read,  in  the  European  Messenger,  that 
article  about  the  last  Pretenders  to  the  crown  in  the  Oren- 
burg Government.''  That  took  place  in  the  year  1834, 
brother!  I  love  not  that  magazine,  and  the  author  is  a 
conservative ;  but  it  is  an  interesting  thing,  and  may  lead 
one  to  reflection " 


99 


IX 

May  had  rolled  on  to  its  second  half;  the  first 
hot  summer  days  had  come. — On  finishing  his 
history  lesson,  NezhdanoiF  wended  his  way  to  the 
garden,  and  from  the  garden  passed  into  the 
birch  grove  which  adjoined  it  on  one  side. — A 
portion  of  this  grove  had  been  felled  by  mer- 
chants, fifteen  years  previously;  but  all  the  de- 
nuded places  were  now  planted  with  a  dense  un- 
derbrush of  young  birch-trees.  Like  pillars  of  a 
dull-silver  hue,  with  greyish  horizontal  rings, 
stood  the  close-set  trees;  the  little  leaves  shone 
with  a  clear  and  vigorous  green,  exactly  as  though 
some  one  had  washed  them,  and  had  covered  them 
with  varnish;  the  spring  grass  was  thrusting  its 
sharp  spears  through  the  smooth  layer  of  last 
year's  dark  straw-coloured  foliage.  The  whole 
grove  was  intersected  by  narrow  paths;  yellow- 
billed  black  thrushes,  with  sudden  cry  as  though 
alarmed,  flitted  athwart  these  paths,  low  down, 
almost  grazing  the  ground,  and  dashed  head- 
long into  the  thicket.  After  strolling  about  for 
half  an  hour,  NezhdanofF,  at  last,  seated  himself 
on  the  stump  of  a  felled  tree,  surrounded  by  grey, 
aged  chips:  they  lay  in  j»  heap,  just  as  they  had 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

fallen  when  chopped  off  long  ago  by  the  axe. 
JMany  times  had  the  winter  snow  covered  them — 
and  retreated  from  them  in  the  spring, — and  no 
one  had  touched  them.  NezhdanofF  sat  with  his 
back  to  a  thick  wall  of  young  birches,  in  a  dense 
but  short  shadow;  he  was  not  thinking  of  any- 
thing, he  had  surrendered  himself  completely  to 
that  peculiar  sensation  of  springtime  with  which 
—in  the  young  as  well  as  in  the  old  heart— there 
is  always  an  admixture  of  sadness  ....  the 
agitated  sadness  of  expectation — in  the  young; 
the  impassive  sadness  of  regret — in  the  old.  .  .  . 

All  at  once  NezhdanofF  heard  the  sound  of  ap- 
proaching footsteps. 

It  was  not  one  person  who  was  walking  there, 
— and  not  a  peasant  in  bast  slippers  or  in  heavy 
boots, — and  not  a  bare-footed  peasant  woman. 
There  appeared  to  be  two  persons,  walking  at  a 
leisurely,  measured  pace.  ...  A  woman's  gown 
rustled  lightly.  .  .  . 

All  at  once  a  dull  voice,  a  man's  voice,  rang 
out: 

"  And  so  this  is  your  last  word?    Never?  " 

"Never!" — repeated  another,  a  woman's 
voice,  which  struck  NezhdanofF  as  familiar;  and, 
a  moment  later,  around  a  turn  in  the  path  which, 
at  that  point,  wound  among  the  young  birch- 
trees,— Marianna  stepped  forth,  accompanied 
by  a  swarthy,  black-eyed  man,  whom  Nezhdanoff 
had  never  beheld  until  that  moment, 

101 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Both  stopped  short,  as  though  rooted  to  the 
spot,  at  the  sight  of  NezhdanofF;— and  Nezhda- 
noff  was  so  astounded  that  he  did  not  even  rise 
from  the  stump  on  which  he  was  sitting.  .  .  . 
INIarianna  blushed  to  the  very  roots  of  her  hair, 
but  immediately  burst  into  a  scornful  laugh.  .  .  . 
To  whom  did  that  laugh  refer— to  herself,  be- 
cause she  had  blushed— or  to  NezhdanoiF?  .  .  . 
And  her  companion  knitted  his  thick  eyebrows, 
and  the  yellowish  whites  of  his  restless  eyes 
flashed.  Then  he  exchanged  a  glance  with  Mari- 
anna,— and  both,  turning  their  backs  on  Nezh- 
danoff ,  walked  away,  in  silence,  without  acceler- 
ating their  pace,  while  he  watched  them  with 
a  look  of  amazement. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  returned  to  the  house, 
to  his  room,— and  when,  summoned  by  the  roar- 
ing of  the  gong,  he  entered  the  drawing-room, 
he  beheld  in  it  that  same  black-visaged  stranger 
who  had  run  up  against  him  in  the  grove.  Si- 
pyagin  led  NezhdanofF  up  to  him,  and  introduced 
him  as  his  brother-in-law,  the  brother  of  Valen- 
tina  Mikhailovna— Sergyei  Mildiailovitch  Mar- 
kelofF. 

"  I  beg,  gentlemen,  that  you  will  love  and  fa- 
vour each  other!  "—exclaimed  Sipyagin,  with 
the  majestically  courteous  and,  at  the  same  time, 
preoccupied  smile  which  was  so  characteristic  of 
him. 

JNIarkeloff  made  a  silent  bow.    Nezhdanoff  re- 

102 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

sponded  in  the  same  manner  .  .  .  and  Sipyagin, 
throwing  his  small  head  a  little  backward  and 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  withdrew  to  one  side, — 
as  much  as  to  say:  "  I  have  brought  you  to- 
gether, and  whether  you  do  love  and  favour  each 
other  or  not  is  a  matter  of  entire  indifference 
tome!" 

Then  Valentina  Mikhailovna  approached  to  the 
pair  who  stood  there  immovable,  again  presented 
them  to  each  other — and,  with  the  peculiar,  affec- 
tionately brilliant  glance  which,  as  though  at  the 
word  of  command,  welled  up  in  her  wonderful 
eyes,  entered  into  conversation  with  her  brother. 

"  What  dost  thou  mean,  cher  Serge,  by  forget- 
ting us  altogether !  thou  didst  not  even  come  to  us 
on  Kolya's  Name-day.  Have  thy  occupations 
so  overwhelmed  thee? 

"  He  is  establishing  a  new  order  of  things  with 
his  peasants," — she  said,  turning  to  NezhdanofF, 
— "a  very  original  order  of  things;  he  is  giving 
them  three  fourths  of  everything — and  leaving 
himself  only  one  fourth;  and  even  so,  he  thinks 
that  he  is  getting  a  great  deal." 

"  My  sister  is  fond  of  jesting,"— said  Marke- 
lofF,  addressing  Nezhdanoff,  in  his  turn; — "  but 
I  am  ready  to  agree  with  her  that  for  one  man 
to  take  one  quarter  of  what  belongs  to  whole 
hundreds  really  is  to  take  a  great  deal." 

"  And  you,  Alexyei  Dmitritch,— have  you  ob- 
served that  I  am  fond  of  jesting?  "—inquired 

103 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

JNIadame  Sipyagin,  still  with  the  same  caressing 
gentleness  of  look  and  voice. 

NezhdanofF  did  not  know  what  reply  to  make ; 
— and  just  then  KallomyeitzefF's  arrival  was  an- 
nounced. The  hostess  advanced  to  meet  him 
and,  a  few  minutes  later,  the  butler  made  his  ap- 
pearance, and  in  a  drawling  voice  announced  that 
dinner  was  served. 

At  dinner  Nezhdanoff  involuntarily  kept  gaz- 
ing at  Marianna  and  Markeloff. — They  sat  side 
by  side,  both  with  eyes  cast  down,  with  com- 
pressed lips,  with  a  lowering  and  stern,  almost 
vicious  expression  of  countenance.  Nezhdanoff 
was  particularly  perplexed  by  the  thought— how 
JMarkeloff  could  be  the  brother  of  Madame  Si- 
pyagin. There  was  so  little  resemblance  to  be 
observed  between  them. — Possibly,  in  one  point 
only :  they  both  had  swarthy  skins ;  but  Valentina 
jNIikhailovna's  dull-white  complexion,  arms  and 
shoulders  constituted  one  of  her  charms  .... 
in  her  brother  it  passed  into  that  blackness  which 
polite  people  designate  as  "  bronze,"  but  which, 
to  the  Russian  eyes,  is  suggestive  of — the  leg  of 
a  boot.  Markeloff  had  curly  hair,  a  rather  hooked 
nose,  thick  lips,  sunken  cheeks,  a  hollow  abdomen, 
and  sinewy  hands.  Altogether,  he  was  sinewy 
and  lean,  and  he  talked  in  a  brazen,  abrupt  voice. 
His  glance  was  drowsy,  his  aspect  surly — a  regu- 
lar bilious  temperament.  He  ate  little,  and  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  rolling  little  balls  of  bread, 

104 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

and  only  now  and  then  did  he  cast  his  eyes  on 
KallomyeitzefF,  who  had  just  returned  from 
town,  where  he  had  seen  the  Governor  in  con- 
nection with  an  affair  which  was  not  in  the  least 
an  agreeable  one  for  him,  Kallomyeitzeff,  con- 
cerning which,  however,  he  carefully  held  his 
peace,  and  chirped  like  a  nightingale. 

Sipyagin,  as  on  the  former  occasion,  snubbed 
him  when  he  became  too  obstreperous,  but 
laughed  a  great  deal  at  his  anecdotes  and  bon- 
mots,  although  he  considered  "  qiiil  est  un  af- 
freucc  reactionnaire."  Kallomyeitzeff  asserted, 
among  other  things,  that  he  had  gone  into  perfect 
raptures  over  the  name  which  the  peasants — oui, 
oui!  les  simples  mougiks! — bestow  on  lawyers. 
"Barkers!  barkers!" — he  repeated  enthusiasti- 
cally:— ''  ce  peuple  russe  est  delicieux!" — Then 
he  related  how,  once  upon  a  time,  when  he  was 
visiting  a  school  for  the  common  people,  he  had 
put  to  the  school-master  a  question:  "  What  is  a 
strophokamil?  "  ^ — And,  as  no  one  was  able  to 
answer  it,  not  even  the  teacher,  he,  Kallomyei- 
tzeff, had  put  another  question:  "What  is  a 
pitliik?"'^ — and  had  cited  Khemnitzer's  verse: 
"  And  the  weak-minded  pithik,  the  delineator  of 
beast-like  faces!" — And  no  one  had  answered 
that  question  of  his  either. — "  So  much  for  your 
popular  schools ! " 

"  But  excuse  me,"— remarked  Valentina  Mi- 

*  Ostrich.— Thanslatoh.  '  Ape.— Translator. 

105 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

khailovna,— "  I  myself  do  not  know  what  sort  of 
wild  beasts  those  are." 

"Madame!"  exclaimed  Kallomyeitzeff,  "It 
is  not  necessary  that  you  should  know!  " 

"  But  why  should  the  people  know?  " 

"  Because — it  is  better  for  them  to  know  pithik 
or  stropJiokamil  than — some  Prudhomme  or 
other — or  even  Adam  Smith!  " 

But  at  this  point  Sipyagin  snubbed  Kallomye- 
itzeff once  more  by  announcing  that  Adam 
Smith  was  one  of  the  lights  of  human  thought, 
and  that  it  would  be  useful  to  imbibe  his  principles 
(he  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  chateau 
d'Yquem)  .  .  .  .  "  along  with  the  mother's 
milk!"  (he  passed  the  wine  under  his  nose 
and  inhaled  the  aroma).  .  .  .  Then  he  gulped 
down  the  wine.  KallomyeitzeiF  also  sipped  the 
wine  and  praised  it. 

MarkelofF  paid  no  particular  attention  to  the 
babble  of  the  Petersburg  Gentleman  of  the  Em- 
peror's Bedchamber,  but  he  cast  a  couple  of  in- 
terrogative glances  at  Nezhdanoff,  and,  firing  a 
bread-ball,  he  came  within  an  ace  of  hitting  the 
eloquent  visitor  straight  on  the  nose.  .  .  . 

Sipyagin  left  his  brother-in-law  in  peace;  Va- 
lentina  Mikhailovna  did  not  talk  to  him  either ;  it 
was  obvious  that  both  of  them,  husband  and  wife, 
had  become  accustomed  to  regard  Markeloif  as 
an  eccentric  person  who  had  better  not  be  irritated. 

After  dinner  MarkeloflF  betook  himself  to  the 

106 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

billiard-room  to  smoke  his  pipe,  and  Nezhdanoff 
went  off  to  his  room. — In  the  corridor  he  encoun- 
tered ]Marianna.  He  was  on  the  point  of  passing 
her  .  .  when  she  stopped  him  with  an  abrupt  ges- 
ture of  her  hand. 

"  Mr.  NezhdanofF,"— she  began,  in  a  rather  un- 
steady voice, — "  it  really  ought  to  be  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  me  what  you  think  about  me: 
nevertheless,  I  suppose  ....  I  suppose  .  .  .  ." 
(she  was  at  a  loss  for  words)  ..."  I  suppose 
that  it  is  appropriate  to  say  to  you,  that  when  you 
met  me  and  ]\Ir.  INIarkeloff  to-day  in  the  grove 
....  You  probably  thought,  did  you  not,  '  Why 
did  both  of  them  become  confused,  and  why  did 
they  come  thither, — as  though  by  appoint- 
ment?'" 

"  It  really  did  strike  me  as  rather  strange  ..." 
began  Nezhdanoff . 

"Mr.  MarkelofF," — interposed  Marianna,— 
"  made  me  an  offer  of  marriage — and  I  refused 
him.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you;  and  now 
— good-bye.    And  think  what  you  will  of  me." 

She  tui'ned  swiftly  away,  and  retreated  down 
the  corridor  with  hasty  steps. 

Nezhdanoff  returned  to  his  own  room  and, 
seating  himself  by  the  window,  fell  into  thought. 
— What  a  strange  girl,  and  to  what  end  that  sav- 
age sally,  that  unbidden  frankness?  What  was 
it — a  desire  to  be  original — or  simply  pompous 
language — or  pride?     Most  likely  of  all  it  was 

107 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

pride.  She  could  not  endure  the  shghtest  suspi- 
cion. .  .  .  She  could  not  bear  the  thought  that 
another  person  should  judge  falsely  concerning 
her. — A  strange  girl! 

Thus  did  NezhdanoiF  meditate;  and  down- 
stairs, on  the  terrace,  a  conversation  about  him 
was  in  progress ;  and  he  heard  it  all  very  distinctly. 

"  My  nose  scents  out," — asserted  Kallomyei- 
tzefF, — "  scents  out  that  he  is — a  red.  Formerly, 
when  I  was  an  official  for  special  commissions, 
attached  to  the  General-Governor  of  Moscow, — 
avec  Ladislas.—l  got  my  wits  sharpened  on  the 
subject  of  that  sort  of  gentry — the  reds,  and  also 
the  Old  Ritualists.  I  used  to  get  the  upper  hand 
of  them  instinctively." — Here  KallomyeitzefF, 
"  by  the  way,"  narrated  how,  once  upon  a  time,  in 
the  suburbs  of  Moscow,  he  had  caught  by  the 
heels  an  old  sectarian,  on  whom  he  had  made  a 
sudden  descent  with  the  police,  and  who  had  all 
but  leaped  out  of  the  window  of  his  cottage.  .  .  . 
"  And  up  to  that  minute  he  had  been  sitting 
peaceably  on  his  bench,  the  knave !  " 

KallomyeitzefF  forgot  to  add,  that  that  same 
old  man,  when  put  in  prison,  had  refused  all  food 
— and  had  starved  himself  to  death. 

"  And  your  new  teacher,"— went  on  the  met- 
tlesome Gentleman  of  the  Bedchamber,—"  is  a 
red,  without  fail !  Have  you  noticed  that  he  never 
is  the  first  to  bow?  " 

"  But  why  should  he  be  the  first  to  bow?  "— re- 

108 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

marked  Madame  Sipyagin;— "  on  the  contrary, 
I  like  that  m  hnn." 

"  I  am  a  guest  in  the  house  where  he  serves," 
— exclaimed  KallomyeitzelF,— "  yes,  yes,  serves 
for  money,  comme  un  salarie.  .  .  Consequently, 
I  am  his  superior.— And  he  ought  to  make  me  the 
first  bow." 

"  You  are  very  exacting,  my  dearest  fellow," 
— interposed  Sipyagin,  with  emphasis  on  est; — 
"  all  that,  pardon  me,  reeks  of  antiquated  customs. 
I  have  purchased  his  services,  his  work,  but  he  re- 
mains a  free  man." 

"  He  does  not  feel  the  bit," — went  on  Kal- 
lomyeitzefF,— "  the  bit,— Ze  frein!  All  those  reds 
are  just  like  that.  I  tell  you,  I  have  a  wonderful 
nose  for  them!— No  one  but  Ladislas,  possibly, 
can  compete  with  me  in  that  respect. — If  he  were 
to  fall  into  my  hands,  that  tutor,— I  'd  bring  him 
up  with  a  round  turn!  He  should  sing  another 
tune  for  me; — and  the  way  he  would  take  off  his 
hat  to  me  would  be  simply  splendid!  " 

"The  rubbish,  the  braggart!  "—Nezhdanoff 
above  came  near  shouting  out.  .  .  .  But  at  that 
moment  the  door  of  his  room  opened— and,  to  the 
no  small  amazement  of  Nezhdanoff,— Markeloff 
entered. 


109 


X 

Nezhdanoff  rose  from  his  seat  to  welcome  him, 
but  INIarkelofF  walked  straight  up  to  him,  and 
without  a  bow,  without  a  smile,  asked  him:  "  was 
it  true  that  he  was  Alexyei  Dmitritch  NezhdanofF, 
student  of  the  St.  Petersburg  University?  " 

"  Yes  .  .  .  exactly  so," — replied  NezhdanofF. 

INIarkeloiF  drew  from  a  side  pocket  an  unsealed 
letter.—"  In  that  case,  read  this.  It  is  from  Va- 
sily  Nikolaevitch,"— he  added,  significantly  low- 
ering his  voice. 

NezhdanofF  unfolded  and  read  the  letter.  It 
was  something  in  the  nature  of  a  semi-official  cir- 
cular, in  which  the  bearer,  Sergyei  INIarkelofF, 
was  recommended  as  one  of  "  ours,"  who  was 
entirely  worthy  of  confidence;  then  followed  an 
injunction  as  to  the  pressing  necessity  of  con- 
certed action,  as  to  the  dissemination  of  well- 
known  rules.  The  circular  was  addressed  to 
NezhdanofF,  among  others,  as  to  a  man  who  was 
also  trustworthy. 

NezhdanofF  offered  his  hand  to  MarkelofF,  in- 
vited him  to  be  seated,  and  sat  down  himself  on  a 
chair.  JNIarkelofF  began  by  lighting  a  cigarette, 
without  having  uttered  a  word.  NezhdanofF  fol- 
lowed his  example. 

110 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Have  you  already  succeeded  in  entering  into 
relations  with  the  peasants  here? " — inquired 
Markeloif ,  at  last. 

"  No;  I  have  not  succeeded  in  that,  so  far." 

"  And  is  it  long  since  you  arrived  here?  " 

"  It  will  soon  be  a  fortnight." 

"  Are  you  very  busy?  " 

"  Not  very." 

Markeloff  coughed  gruffly. 

"  Hm !  The  common  people  here  are  a  pretty 
empty  lot,"— he  went  on; — "an  ignorant  lot. 
They  must  be  instructed.  There  is  great  poverty, 
and  no  one  can  explain  whence  that  poverty 
arises." 

"  Your  brother-in-law's  former  serfs  are  not 
poverty-stricken,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,"— re- 
marked NezhdanofF. 

"  My  brother-in-law  is  a  sly  dog;  he  's  a  master- 
hand  at  diverting  one's  attention.  The  local  peas- 
ants are  all  right,  't  is  true ;  but  he  has  a  factory. 
That  is  where  our  efforts  must  be  applied.  All 
you  have  to  do  is  to  delve  down  there :  things  will 
be  turned  upside  down  immediately,  as  though 
it  were  an  ant-hill.  —  Have  you  any  little  books 
with  you? " 

"  Yes  .  .  .  but  not  many." 

"  I  '11  get  you  some.    How  does  that  happen?  " 

Nezhdanoff  made  no  answer.— Markeloff,  also, 
relapsed  into  silence,  and  merely  emitted  smoke 
through  his  nostrils. 

Ill 


VIRGIN  SOIL 


(( 


But  what  a  villain  that  Kallomyeitzeff  is,"— 
he  suddenly  went  on. — "  At  dinner  I  kept  think- 
ing: '  Shall  I  rise  and  go  up  to  that  gentleman 
and  pound  his  whole  arrogant  phiz  to  powder,  in 
order  that  others  may  not  be  tempted  to  do  the 
same?  But  no!  There  are  more  important  mat- 
ters on  hand  at  present,  than  thrashing  Gentle- 
men of  the  Bedchamber! ' — This  is  no  time  for 
waxing  wroth  with  fools  because  they  utter  fool- 
ish words ;  now  is  the  time  to  prevent  their  perpe- 
trating foolish  deeds." 

Nezhdanoff  nodded  his  head  affirmatively, — 
and  again  MarkelofF  devoted  himself  to  his  cigar- 
ette. 

"  Here,  out  of  all  the  menials  in  the  house, 
there  is  one  very  business-like  young  fellow," — 
he  began  again; — "not  your  servant  Ivan  .  .  . 
he  's  a  sort  of  fish,  but  the  other  fellow — his  name 
is  Kyrill;  he  serves  in  the  pantry."  (This  Kyrill 
was  well  known  to  be  a  bitter  drunkard.)  "  You 
just  pay  heed  to  him.  He  's  a  turbulent  fellow 
.  .  .  but  we  cannot  afford  to  be  dainty.  And 
what  do  you  say  to  my  sister?  " — he  added,  sud- 
denly raising  his  head  and  riveting  his  yellow  eyes 
on  NezhdanofF.— "  She  is  even  more  crafty  than 
my  brother-in-law.  What  is  your  opinion  about 
her?" 

"  I  think  that  she  is  a  very  agreeable  and  ami- 
able lad5^  .  .  And  she  is  very  handsome,  to  boot." 

"  Hm!  with  what  precision  you  gentlemen  from 

112 


VIRGIN  soil; 

Petersburg  express  yourselves.  .  .  I  am  amazed ! 
—Well  .  .  .  and  as  for  .  .  .  ."  he  was  begin- 
ning, but  suddenly  frowned ;  his  face  grew  lower- 
ing, and  he  did  not  finish  the  sentence  which  he 
had  begun. — "  I  perceive  that  you  and  I  must 
have  a  good  talk,"— he  began  afresh. — "  Here  it 
is  impossible.  The  devil  take  them !  I  believe  they 
listen  at  the  doors.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  go- 
ing to  propose  to  you?  To-day  is  Saturday; 
to-morrow,  probably,  you  do  not  give  my  nephew 
any  lessons?  .  .  is  n't  that  so?  " 

"  I  have  a  review  lesson  with  him  to-morrow, 
at  three  o'clock." 

"A  review!  Exactly  like  a  rehearsal  at  the 
theatre.  It  must  be  that  dear  sister  of  mine  who 
invents  such  words.  Well,  never  mind.  Come 
at  once  to  me,  will  you?  My  village  lies  ten  versts 
from  here.  I  have  good  horses :  we  will  drive  off 
thither  at  full  speed ;  you  shall  pass  the  night  with 
me,  and  spend  the  morning,— and  to-morrow,  by 
three  o'clock,  I  will  fetch  you  back.  Do  you  ac- 
cept? " 

"  Very  well,"— said  NezhdanofF.  From  the 
first  moment  of  MarkelofF's  entrance  he  had  felt 
himself  in  an  excited  and  constrained  condition. 
—His  sudden  intimacy  with  him  disconcerted 
him ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  felt  drawn  toward 
him.  He  felt,  he  understood,  that  he  had  before 
him  a  being  who  was  probably  dull,  but  was  in- 
disputably   honest— and    powerful.— Added    to 

113 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

this,  that  strange  encounter  in  the  grove,  that  un- 
expected explanation  from  Marianna. 

"  Well,  that  's  very  fine!  "—exclaimed  Marke- 
lofF.—"  Meanwhile,  do  you  make  ready;  and  I 
will  go  and  give  orders  to  have  the  tarantas  har- 
nessed. I  hope  that  you  are  not  obliged  to  ask 
permission  of  the  heads  of  the  house  here?  " 

"  I  shall  inform  them.  Otherwise,  I  assume 
that  I  cannot  absent  myself." 

"I  will  tell  them,"-put  in  MarkelofF.- 
"  Don't  trouble  yourself. — At  present  they  are 
quarrelling  over  their  cards,  and  will  not  notice 
your  absence.  My  brother-in-law  aspires  to  be- 
come a  statesman,  and  the  only  qualification  he 
has  for  the  post  is,  that  he  plays  cards  capitally. 
Well,  there  's  no  use  talking  about  it ;  many  make 
their  way  through  that  wicket-gate!  ...  So  hold 
yourself  in  readiness.  I  will  immediately  take 
all  necessary  measures." 

Markeloff  left  the  room;  and  an  hour  later 
Nezhdanoff  was  sitting  by  his  side,  on  a  large 
leather  cushion,  in  a  spacious,  roomy,  very  old- 
fashioned  and  very  comfortable  tarantas;  the 
thick-set  little  coachman  on  the  box  kept  whistling 
incessantly,  with  a  wonderfully  agreeable,  bird- 
like whistle;  the  troika  of  piebald  horses,  with 
black  plaited  manes  and  tails,  dashed  swiftly 
along  the  level  road;  and  the  separate  trees, 
bushes,  fields,  meadows  and  ravines, — already 
veiled  in  the  first  shades  of  twilight   (the  clock 

114 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

had  struck  ten  at  the  moment  of  their  departure)  ; 
— ghded  smoothly  past,  some  behind,  others  in 
front,  according  to  their  degree  of  remoteness. 

Markeloff's  tiny  hamlet  (it  had  only  two  hun- 
dred desyatmas  ^  of  land  in  all,  and  yielded  an  in- 
come of  about  seven  hundred  rubles,  and  was 
called  Borzvonkovo)   was  situated  three  versts  ^ 
from  the  capital  of  the  government,  from  which 
Sipyagin's  estate  lay  at  a  distance  of  seven  versts. 
In  order  to  reach  Borzyonkovo,  it  was  necessary 
to  traverse  the  town.— The  new  acquaintances  had 
not   succeeded   in   exchanging   half   a   hundred 
words,  when  the  wretched  suburban  hovels  of  the 
petty  burghers  flitted  before  them,   with  their 
broken  board  roofs,  and  dim  splotches  of  light 
in  their  tiny  windows  twisted  out  of  the  perpen- 
dicular ;  and  then  the  stones  of  the  town  pavement 
thundered  beneath  the  wheels,  the  tarantas  jolted, 
and  lurched  from  side  to  side,  bouncing  upward, 
and  at  every  jolt  they  swept   past  merchants' 
stupid,  two-story  stone  houses  with  pediments, 
churches  with  columns,  taverns.  ...  It  was  al- 
most Sunday;  there  were  no  longer  any  pedes- 
trians in  the  streets,  but  there  were  still  throngs 
of   people   in   the   dram-shops.      Hoarse    voices 
rang   out  thence,   drunken   songs,   the   whining 
sounds   of   the   accordion;    from   the    suddenly- 
opened  doors  rushed  forth  sordid  heat,  the  pun- 

^A  desyatina  is  2.70  acres.— Translator. 
*A  verst  is  0.66  of  a  mile. — Translator. 

115 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

gent  odour  of  spirits,  the  red  glow  of  night-lights. 
In  front  of  almost  every  dram-shop  stood  peas- 
ant-carts, harnessed  to  shaggy,  pot-hellied  nags; 
submissively  drooping  their  dishevelled  heads, 
they  appeared  to  be  asleep.  A  tattered,  gir- 
dleless  peasant,  with  a  puffy,  winter  cap  hanging 
on  the  nape  of  his  neck  like  a  sack,  emerged  from  a 
dram-shop,  and  leaning  his  breast  against  the 
shafts,  remained  motionless,  weakly  fingering 
over  something,  and  spreading  out  his  hands  and 
fumbling;  or  a  gaunt  factory -hand,  with  his  cap 
on  one  ear,  with  his  nankeen  blouse  hanging 
loosely,  and  barefooted, — he  had  left  his  boots 
in  the  dram-shop, — took  a  few  irresolute  steps, 
halted,  scratched  his  back,  and,  suddenly  emit- 
ting a  groan,  turned  back.  .  .  . 

"  Liquor  vanquishes  the  Russian  man!  "  gloom- 
ily remarked  MarkelofF. 

"  It 's  grief,  dear  little  father,  Sergyei  Mikhai- 
lovitch!  " — remarked  the  coachman,  without  turn- 
ing round ;  he  had  ceased  to  whistle  as  he  passed 
each  dram-shop,  and  seemed  to  retreat  into  him- 
self. 

"Go  on!  Go  on!"— replied  MarkelofF,  an- 
grily shaking  the  collar  of  his  coat.  The  tarantas 
crossed  a  spacious  market-place,  all  reeking  with 
the  odour  of  cabbage  and  linden-bast  sacking, 
passed  the  Governor's  residence,  with  its  striped 
sentry-boxes  at  the  gate,  a  private  house  with  a 
tower,  the  boulevard  with  recently-planted  and  al- 

116 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

ready  expiring  trees,  the  grand  bazaar,  filled  with 
the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  rattling  of  chains; 
and  gradually  emerging  beyond  the  town  gates, 
having  overtaken  a  long,  long  train  of  sledges 
which  had  set  out  on  their  journey  while  it  was 
still  cold,  they  found  themselves  once  more  in  the 
air  of  the  country,  on  the  highway  fringed  with 
willows— and  once  more  they  rolled  briskly  and 
smoothly  onward. 

Markeloff— we  must  really  say  a  few  words 
about  him — was  six  years  older  than  his  sister, 
Madame  Sipyagin.  He  had  been  educated  in 
the  artillery  school,  whence  he  had  graduated  as 
an  officer ;  but  he  had  resigned,  while  still  holding 
the  rank  of  ensign,  on  account  of  a  row  with  his 
commander — a  German.  Thenceforth  he  hated 
the  Germans,  especially  Russian  Germans.  His 
resignation  had  ruined  his  relations  with  his  fa- 
ther, whom  he  never  saw  again  before  the  latter's 
death ;  but  he  had  inherited  from  him  a  tiny  estate, 
and  had  settled  down  on  it.  In  Petersburg  he  had 
frequently  associated  with  various  clever,  prom- 
inent people,  whom  he  fairly  venerated ;  they  had 
definitively  determined  his  mode  of  thought. 
Markeloff  had  read  little,— and  chiefly  books  per- 
taining to  the  cause:— especially  Hertzen.  He 
had  preserved  his  military  mien,  lived  like  a 
Spartan  and  a  monk.  A  few  years  prior  to  our 
story  he  had  fallen  passionately  in  love  with  a 
young   girl;   but   the   latter  had   jilted   him   in 

117 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

the  most  unceremonious  manner,  and  had  mar- 
ried an  adjutant— who  was,  moreover,  of  Ger- 
man extraction.  Markeloff  hkewise  detested 
adjutants.  He  tried  to  write  special  articles  con- 
cerning the  defects  of  our  artillery  service,  but 
he  possessed  no  talent  for  exposition: — he  was 
not  able  to  complete  a  single  article — and  yet  he 
continued  to  scrawl  huge  sheets  of  common  paper 
all  over  with  his  big,  awkward,  truly-childish 
chirography.  Markeloff  was  a  stubborn  man, 
intrepid  to  desperation,  who  was  incapable  of 
forgiving  or  forgetting,  was  constantly  offended 
on  his  own  account,  and  on  the  account  of  all 
oppressed  people — and  ready  for  anything.  His 
shallow  mind  hammered  away  constantly  at  one 
and  the  same  point:  what  he  did  not  understand 
did  not  exist  for  him;  but  he  both  despised  and 
detested  falsehood  and  lying.  With  persons 
of  the  higher  class,  with  "  reactionary  high  offi- 
cials," as  he  expressed  himself,  he  was  curt  and 
even  rude;  with  the  common  people  he  was  sim- 
ple; with  a  peasant  he  was  as  sociable  as  with  a 
brother.  He  was  a  mediocre  farmer;  he  had 
divers  socialistic  plans  whirling  through  his  brain, 
which  he  was  as  unable  to  put  in  practice  as  he 
was  to  finish  the  articles  which  he  had  begun 
about  the  defects  of  the  artillery.  On  the  whole — 
he  was  not  lucky— never,  in  anything:  in  the  mili- 
tary academy  he  had  borne  the  nickname  of  "  the 
unlucky."  A  sincere,  straightforward  man,  with 
a  passionate,  unhappy  nature,  he  could,  under  cer- 

118 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

tain  circumstances,  show  himself  to  be  pitiless, 
bloodthirsty,  and  earn  the  name  of  monster — and 
he  could,  also,  sacrifice  himself  unhesitatingly 
and  irrevocably. 

At  the  third  verst  from  the  town,  the  tarantas 
suddenly  entered  the  soft  gloom  of  an  aspen- 
grove,  with  the  rustle  and  quiver  of  invisible  fo- 
liage, with  the  fresh  bitterness  of  the  forest  scent, 
with  dim  apertures  above,  and  tangled  shadows 
below.  The  moon  had  already  risen  above  the 
horizon,  red  and  broad  as  a  copper  shield.  Emerg- 
ing from  beneath  the  trees,  the  tarantas  found 
itself  in  front  of  a  small  manor-house.  Three 
lighted  windows  stood  out  like  brilliant  squares 
on  the  front  of  the  low-roofed  house,  which  ob- 
scured the  disk  of  the  moon:  the  gates,  which 
stood  ajar,  were  never  closed.  In  the  courtyard, 
through  the  semi-darkness,  a  tall  kibitka  was  visi- 
ble, with  two  white  posting-horses  hitched  behind 
to  the  rack.  Two  puppies,  also  white,  sprang 
out  from  somewhere  or  other,  and  set  up  a  pierc- 
ing but  not  ill-natured  barking.  People  began 
to  move  about  in  the  house — the  tarantas  rolled 
up  to  the  steps;  and,  with  difficulty  climbing 
out,  and  searching  with  his  foot  for  the  iron  step, 
affixed,  as  usual,  by  a  home-bred  blacksmith,  in 
the  most  inconvenient  place  possible,  Markeloff" 
said  to  Nezhdanoff*: 

"  Here  we  are,  at  home — and  you  will  find  here 
guests  whom  you  know  well,  but  were  by  no 
means  expecting  to  meet.— Pray  enter!  " 

119 


XI 

These  guests  turned  out  to  be  our  old  acquaint- 
ances, OstrodiimofF  and  Miss  Mashiirin.  Both 
were  sitting  in  the  small,  very  badly  furnished 
drawing-room  of  Markeloff's  house— and  were 
drinking  beer  and  smoking  tobacco  by  the  light  of 
a  kerosene  lamp.  They  were  not  surprised  at 
Nezhdanoff' s  arrival ;  they  knew  that  MarkelofF 
intended  to  bring  him  back  with  him ;  but  Nezh- 
dcinoff  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  sight  of  them. 
When  he  entered,  OstrodiimofF  said:  "Good 
evening,  brother!  "—and  that  was  all;  Miss  Ma- 
shiirin  first  blushed  all  over,  then  offered  her 
hand.  Markeloff  exj)lained  to  Nezhdanoff  that 
OstrodiimofF  and  Miss  Mashiirin  had  been  sent 
"  on  the  general  business,"  which  was  now  soon  to 
be  put  in  operation ;  that  they  had  left  Petersburg 
a  week  before;  that  OstrodiimofF  was  to  remain 
in  the  Government  of  S.  for  the  purposes  of 
propaganda,— but  Miss  Mashiirin  was  going  to 
K.,  to  interview  a  certain  man. 

MarkelofF  suddenly  became  angry,  although 
no  one  had  contradicted  him:— with  flashing  eyes 
he  began  to  talk  in  an  excited,  dull,  but  distinct 
voice,  about  the  horrors  that  had  been  perpetrated, 

120 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

about  the  indispensability  of  immediate  action, 
and  to  the  effect,  that,  in  reahty,  everything  was 
ready,  and  only  cowards  could  dally;  that  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  force  was  indispensable,  like  the 
thrust  of  a  lancet  in  an  abscess,  however  ripe  that 
abscess  may  be !  He  repeated  this  comparison  of 
the  lancet  several  times :  it  evidently  pleased  him ; 
he  had  not  invented  it,  but  had  read  it  somewhere 
or  other.  —  It  appeared  that,  having  lost  all  hope 
of  reciprocity  on  the  part  of  JNIarianna,  he  had 
no  compassion  on  anything  any  longer,  and 
thought  of  nothing  except  how  to  begin  on  "  the 
cause  "  as  speedily  as  possible.  He  talked  as 
though  he  were  chopping  with  an  axe,  without 
any  artifice,  sharply,  simply,  and  viciously;  his 
words  leaped  monotonously  out  of  his  pallid  lips, 
one  after  the  other,  in  a  manner  suggestive  of  the 
barking  of  a  stern  and  aged  watch-dog.  He 
showed  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
neighbouring  peasants  and  factorj^-hands,  and 
that  there  were  active  men  among  them, — as,  for 
instance,  Goloplyotzky  Eremyei, — who,  on  the 
instant,  would  do  anything  that  was  wanted. 
This  "  goloplyotzky  "  Eremyei— Eremyei  from 
the  village  of  Goloplyok — was  constantly  re- 
curring to  his  tongue.  At  intervals  of  every  ten 
words  he  brought  his  right  hand  down  with  a 
bang — not  palm- wise,  but  edge-wise — on  the 
table,  and  thrust  the  left  hand  into  the  air,  with 
the    index-finger   standing    apart. — Those    lean, 

121 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

hairy  hands,  that  booming  voice,  those  flaming 
eyes,  produced  a  powerful  impression.  During 
the  ride  JMarkelofF  had  talked  little  with  Nezh- 
danofF;  his  bile  had  been  accumulating  .... 
and  now  it  had  broken  forth.  .  .  Miss  Mashurin 
and  Ostrodiimoff  encouraged  him  with  a  smile,  a 
glance,  occasionally  with  a  brief  exclamation ;  but 
something  strange  took  place  with  Nezhdanoff . 
At  first  he  tried  to  reply;  he  reminded  them  of 
the  harmfulness  of  over-haste,  of  premature,  in- 
considerate actions;  most  of  all,  he  was  amazed 
how  everything  had  already  been  decided,  and 
why  there  was  no  doubt  whatever,  and  no  occa- 
sion whatever  to  consult  circumstances,  nor  even 
to  try  to  find  out  what  the  populace  really  wanted. 
.  .  .  But  later  on  all  his  nerves  became  as  taut 
as  guitar-strings — began  to  quiver — and  with  a 
sort  of  desperation,  almost  with  tears  of  fury 
in  his  eyes,  with  his  voice  breaking  into  a 
scream,  he  began  to  talk  in  the  same  spirit  as 
Markeloff ;  he  even  went  further  than  the  latter. 
— What  incited  him  to  this  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say:  whether  it  was  repentance  for  having 
weakened  of  late,  or  vexation  at  himself  and  at 
others,  or  a  sense  of  the  necessity  of  stifling  some 
inward  worm  or  other,  or,  in  conclusion,  a  desire 
to  show  off  before  the  newly-arrived  missionaries, 
....  or  whether  Markeloft"s  words  really  had 
taken  efl'ect  on  him,  and  fired  his  blood.  The  dis- 
cussion continued  until  daybreak;  OstrodumoiF 

122 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

and  Miss  JNIasIiiirin  never  rose  from  their  chairs, 
and  Markeloff  and  NezhdanofF  never  sat  down. 
MarkelofF  stood  rooted  to  one  spot,  exactly  hke 
a  sentry;  and  Nezhdanoff  kept  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room  with  uneven  strides,  now  slowly, 
now  hurriedly.  They  talked  about  impending 
measures  and  means,  about  the  part  which  each 
one  was  to  assume,  then  sorted  out  and  tied  up 
in  packages  various  wretched  little  books  and 
separate  printed  sheets;  they  alluded  to  a  mer- 
chant, a  member  of  the  sect  of  Old  Ritualists,  a 
certain  Golushkin,  as  an  extremely  reliable  al- 
though uneducated  man,  and  to  the  young  propa- 
gandist Kislyakoff ,  who  was  expert,  you  know, 
but  altogether  too  lively  and  possessed  of  too 
lofty  an  opinion  of  his  own  talents.  Solomin's 
name  was  also  mentioned 

"  Is  that  the  man  who  manages  the  cotton-spin- 
ning factory?  " — inquired  NezhdanofF,  recalling 
what  had  been  said  about  him  at  the  table  of  the 
Sipyagins. 

"  That 's  the  very  man,"— said  MarkelofF. — 
"We  must  introduce  you  to  him;  we  have  not 
got  a  nibble  at  him,  as  yet,  but  he  's  a  capable 
man." 

Eremyei  from  Goloplyok  made  his  appearance 
on  the  scene  once  more.  Sipyagin's  Kirilo  was 
coupled  with  him,  and  with  a  certain  Mendelyei, 
nicknamed  Porpoise,  also;  only,  it  was  difficult 
to  rely  on  this  Porpoise ;  when  sober  he  was  brave, 

123 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

but  when  drunk  he  was  cowardly ;  and  he  was  al- 
most always  drunk. 

"  Well,  and  how  about  your  own  people,"  — 
NezhdiinofF  asked  JNIarkeloff — "  is  there  any  one 
among  them  on  whom  you  can  rely?  " 

MarkelofF  replied  that  there  was;  but  he  did 
not  mention  a  single  one  of  them  by  name,  and 
began  to  talk  about  the  petty  burghers  in  the 
town,  and  the  theological  students,  who  were, 
moreover,  all  the  more  useful  because  they  were 
very  stout  in  bodily  strength — and  when  they 
should  once  begin  to  bring  their  fists  into  play,— 
well,  just  look  out  for  yourself  !~NezhdanofF 
made  some  inquiries  as  to  the  nobles.  MarkelofF 
answered  him  that  there  were  fifty  of  the  young 
men— one  of  them,  even,  was  a  German, — and 
he  was  the  most  radical  of  the  lot;  only,  every- 
body was  aware  that  no  reliance  can  be  placed 
on  a  German  ....  he  will  immediately  cheat 
you  or  sell  you! — And  they  must  wait  to  see  what 
news  KislyakofF  would  obtain. — NezhdanofF  also 
inquired  about  the  military  men.  Thereupon 
MarkelofF  stammered,  tugged  at  his  long  side- 
whiskers,  and  finally  declared  that,  so  far,  there 
was  absolutely  nothing  to  say  about  them  .... 
unless  KislyakofF  should  discover  something. 

"  But  w^ho  is  this  KislyakofF? " — exclaimed 
NezhdanofF,  impatiently. 

MarkelofF  laughed  significantly,  and  said  that 
he  was  a  man  .  .  .  such  a  man.  ..."  However, 

124 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

I  am  not  very  well  acquainted  with  him," — he 
added:  "  I  have  only  met  him  twice,  in  all;  but 
what  letters  that  man  does  write,  what  letters! 
I  will  show  you.  .  .  .  You  will  be  amazed!  sim- 
ply— fire!  And  what  activity!  He  has  galloped 
from  one  end  of  Russia  to  the  other,  in  all  direc- 
tions, five  or  six  times  .  .  .  and  at  every  posting- 
station  a  letter  of  ten  or  twelve  pages!  " 

NezhdanofF  glanced  inquiringly  at  Ostrodii- 
mofF ;  but  the  latter  sat  like  a  statue,  and  never  even 
moved  an  eyelash;  and  Miss  Mashurin  pursed 
up  her  lips  in  a  bitter  smile, — and  she  also  made 
as  though  she  could  not  even  guess !  NezhdanofF 
undertook  to  question  Markeloff  as  to  his  re- 
forms, in  the  socialistic  spirit, — in  his  farming 
.  .  .  but  at  this  point  OstrodiimofF  joined  in. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  discussing  that  now," — 
he  remarked, — "  it  makes  no  difference — every- 
thing must  be  altered  later  on. 

The  conversation  returned  again  to  political 
ground.  The  secret,  inward  worm  continued  to 
nibble  and  gnaw  NezhdanofF ;  but  the  more  pow- 
erful was  that  gnawing  the  more  loudly  and  ir- 
revocably did  he  talk. — He  had  drunk  only  one 
glass  of  beer;  but,  from  time  to  time,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  was  completely  intoxicated — and 
his  head  swam,  and  his  heart  beat  with  a  sickly 
strenuousness.  But  when,  at  last,  in  the  hour  af- 
ter midnight,  the  disputes  came  to  an  end,  and  the 
interlocutors,  stepping  round  the  page  who  was 

12,5 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

sleeping  in  the  anteroom,  strode  off  to  their  sep- 
arate nooks,  NezhdanofF,  before  he  got  into  bed, 
stood  for  a  long  time  motionless,  with  his  eyes 
riveted  on  the  floor  in  front  of  him.  He  seemed 
to  hear  an  incessant,  sorrowful,  soiil-nipping  ac- 
cent in  everything  which  MarkelofF  had  uttered; 
that  man's  egotism  must  have  been  wounded,  he 
must  have  suffered,  his  hopes  of  personal  happi- 
ness must  have  come  to  grief,— and  yet,  he  had 
forgotten  himself,  he  had  surrendered  himself  to 
that  which  he  recognised  as  the  truth!  A  fellow 
of  limited  mind,  thought  NezhdanofF.  ..."  But 
is  it  not  a  hundred  times  better  to  be  that  sort 
of  limited  fellow  than  such  ....  such  an  one  as 
I,  for  instance,  feel  myself  to  be?  " 

But  here  he  rebelled  against  his  self-humili- 
ation. 

"  Why  so?  Shall  not  I,  also,  be  capable  of 
sacrificing  myself?  Wait,  gentlemen.  .  .  .  And 
thou,  Pakhlin,  shalt  also  become  convinced,  in  the 
course  of  time,  that  I,  although  I  am  an  aesthetic, 
although  I  do  write  verses " 

He  angrily  flung  back  his  hair  Math  his  hand, 
gnashed  his  teeth  and,  hastily  pulling  off  his 
clothes,  flung  himself  on  the  cold,  damp  bed. 

"Good  night!"— rang  out  Miss  Mashiirin's 
voice  on  the  other  side  of  the  door: — "  I  am  your 
neighbour." 

"  Good-bye,"— replied  NezhdanofF,  and  im- 
mediately recalled  the  fact  that  she  had  never 

126 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

taken  her  eyes  from  him  during  the  whole  course 
of  the  evening. 

"  What  does  she  want?  "—he  whispered  to  him- 
self— and  was  overcome  with  shame.  "  Akh,  let 
me  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  possible !  " 

But  it  was  difficult  to  control  his  nerves  .... 
and  the  sun  was  already  quite  high  in  the  heavens 
when  at  last  he  fell  into  a  heavy  and  unrefresh- 
ing  slumber. 

The  next  morning  he  rose  late,  with  a  headache. 
He  dressed  himself,  went  to  the  window  of  the 
mezzanine  ^  in  which  his  chamber  was  situated — 
and  perceived  that  MarkelofF  had  no  regular 
manor  whatever;  his  small  house  stood  on  an  ex- 
posed blulF,  not  far  from  a  grove.  A  small  gran- 
ary, a  stable,  a  tiny  underground  store-house,  a 
little  cottage,  with  a  half -ruined  straw  thatch, 
on  one  side;  on  the  other,  a  tiny  pond,  a  small 
kitchen-garden,  a  hemp-patch,  and  another  little 
cottage  with  a  similar  roof ;  in  the  distance,  a  rick 
of  grain,  a  tiny  threshing-shed,  and  an  empty 
threshing-floor — this  was  all  the  "  abundance  " 
which  presented  itself  to  the  eye.  Everything 
seemed  poor,  rotten,  and  not  exactly  neglected 
or  run  wild,  but  as  though  it  had  never  known  a 
blossoming-time,  like  a  sapling  which  has  not 
taken  root  well.  Nezhdanoif  went  down-stairs. 
Miss  Mashurin  was  sitting  in  front  of  the  samo- 

^  In  Russia,  this  term  is  used  to  designate  a  partial  second 
story.  —Translator. 

127 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

var  in  the  dining-room,— and,  evidently,  waiting 
for  him.  He  learned  from  her  that  Ostrodumoff 
had  gone  away  on  business— and  would  not  return 
for  a  couple  of  weeks ;  and  their  host  had  gone  off 
to  attend  to  his  hired  labourers.  As  May  was 
already  approaching  its  end,  and  there  was  no 
work  on  hand  which  required  haste,  Markeloif 
had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  fell  a  small  birch- 
ffrove  with  his  own  tools,  and  had  betaken  him- 
self  thither  early  in  the  morning.  NezhdanofF 
felt  a  strange  weariness  in  his  soul.  So  much  had 
been  said  the  previous  evening  about  the  impos- 
sibility of  any  longer  delay,  and  that  all  that  re- 
mained to  do  was  to  "  set  to  work."  But  how 
set  to  work,  at  what — and  without  delay,  to  boot? 
—  There  was  no  use  in  asking  Miss  Mashurin;  she 
knew  no  wavering ;  she  was  in  no  doubt  as  to  what 
she  ought  to  do,  which  was  to  go  to  K.  Further 
than  that  she  did  not  look.  Nezhdanoff  did  not 
know  what  to  say  to  her — and,  having  drunk  his 
tea,  he  put  on  his  hat,  and  went  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  birch-grove.  On  the  way  he  met 
some  peasants  who  were  driving  manure-wag- 
ons, former  peasants  of  Markeloff's.  He  en- 
tered into  conversation  with  them  .  .  .  but  he  did 
not  get  much  out  of  them.  They,  too,  seemed 
weary — but  with  physical,  every-day  fatigue, 
which  did  not,  in  the  least,  resemble  the  feeling 
that  he  was  experiencing. — Their  former  owner, 
according  to  their  statements,  was  a  simple  gentle- 

128 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

man,  only  rather  queer ;  they  prophesied  his  ruin, 
because  he  did  not  know  the  rules  and  was  al- 
ways trying  to  act  after  his  own  fashion,  not  as  his 
ancestors  had  done.  And  he  was  puzzling — you 
could  n't  understand  him,  try  as  you  would!— but 
the  kindest  of  the  kind! — NezhdanofF  strolled  on, 
and  came  upon  MarkelofF  himself. 

He  was  walking  along,  surrounded  by  a  whole 
throng  of  labourers:  it  could  be  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance that  he  was  explaining  something  to  them, 
elucidating  something — and  then  he  waved  his 
hand  ....  as  much  as  to  say:  "  I  give  it  up! " 

By  his  side  walked  his  superintendent,  a  young 
fellow,  mole-eyed,  without  anything  imposing  in 
his  mien.  This  superintendent  kept  incessantly 
repeating:  "  That  is  as  you  like,  sir," — to  the 
great  vexation  of  his  superior,  who  expected  more 
independence  from  him.  NezhdanoiF  approached 
Markeloff ,  and  beheld  on  his  face  the  exj)ression 
of  exactly  the  same  sort  of  spiritual  weariness 
which  he  was  feeling  himself.  —  They  bade  each 
other  good  morning;  Markeloff  immediately  be- 
gan to  talk,— briefly,  it  is  true— about  the  "  j)rob- 
lems  "  of  the  previous  evening,  about  the  near- 
ness of  an  upheaval ;  but  the  expression  of  weari- 
ness did  not  leave  his  countenance.  He  was  all 
covered  with  dust  and  perspiration;  chips  of 
wood,  green  threads  of  moss  had  attached  them- 
selves to  his  clothing;  his  voice  was  hoarse.  .  .  . 
The  men  who  surrounded  him  maintained  silence : 

129 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

they  were  not  exactly  frightened,  nor  were  they 
exactly  sneering.  .  .  .  NezhdanofF  looked  at  Mar- 
keloff — and  OstrodumofF's  words  again  rang  in 
his  head:  "  What  's  the  use  of  it?  It  makes  no 
difference — everything  must  be  altered  later 
on !  "  One  labourer,  who  had  committed  a  fault, 
began  to  entreat  MarkelofF  to  remit  him  his  fine. 
....  At  first  MarkelofF  flew  into  a  rage  and 
shouted  frantically — and  then  forgave  him.  .  .  . 
"  It  makes  no  difference — everything  must  be 
altered  later  on.  .  .  ."  NezhdanofF  asked  for 
horses  and  a  carriage  that  he  might  return  home ; 
]\IarkelofF  seemed  to  be  surprised  at  his  desire, 
but  replied  that  everything  should  be  ready  di- 
rectly. 

He  returned  to  the  house  in  company  with 
NezhdanofF.  .  .  .  On  the  way  he  staggered  with 
exhaustion. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  "—inquired 
NezhdanofF. 

"  I  am  worn  out!  "—said  MarkelofF,  fiercely. — 
"  Explain  things  to  those  men  as  you  will,  they 
can  understand  nothing — and  they  do  not  execute 
my  orders.  .  .  .  They  don't  even  understand  Rus- 
sian.— The  word  '  portion  '  they  know  very  well, 
but  'sharing' — what  is  'sharing'?^ 
They  do  not  understand!  But  it  's  a  Russian 
word,  too,  devil  take  it!— They  imagine  that  I 
want  to  give  to  them  a  portion  of  land!  "     (Mar- 

*  Portion — utchdstok;  sharing— utchdstie. — Translatoe. 

130 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

keloiF  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  explain 
to  the  peasants  the  principle  of  association,  and 
to  introduce  it  on  his  own  property,  but  they 
had  resisted.  —  One  of  them  had  even  said,  in  this 
connection:  "The  hole  was  deep,  .  .  .  but  now 
the  bottom  cannot  be  seen,  ..."  and  all  the  other 
peasants  had  heaved  a  deep,  unanimous  sigh, 
which  had  completely  annihilated  MarkelofF. ) 

On  entering  the  house  he  dismissed  his  suite, 
and  began  to  make  arrangements  about  the  car- 
riage and  horses — and  about  breakfast.  .  His 
staff  of  servants  consisted  of  the  page-boy,  a 
woman-cook,  a  coachman,  and  a  very  antique  old 
man,  with  ears  overgrown  with  hair,  in  a  long,  cot- 
ton-and-wool  kaftan,  the  former  valet  of  his 
grandfather. — This  old  man  stared  incessantly, 
with  profound  dejection,  at  his  master,  and  did 
nothing  else, — and  was  hardly  in  a  condition  to 
do  anything  else;  but  he  was  always  present, 
perched  up  on  the  little  platform  of  the  porch  at 
the  entrance. 

After  breakfasting  on  hard-boiled  eggs,  pil- 
chards, and  a  dish  of  cold  hash  mixed  with  kvas 
(the  page  handed  round  the  mustard  in  an  old 
pomade-jar), — Nezhdanoff  seated  himself  in  the 
same  tarantas  in  which  he  had  arrived  on  the 
preceding  evening:  but  instead  of  three  horses, 
they  had  harnessed  up  only  two  for  him :  the  third 
was  being  shod — it  had  gone  lame.  In  the  course 
of  the  breakfast  MarkelofF  said  very  Uttle,  ate 

131 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

nothing,  and  breathed  violently.  .  .  .  He  uttered 
two  or  three  bitter  words  about  his  farming— and 
again  waved  his  hand,  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 
.  ..."  It  makes  no  diiFerence — everything  must 
be  altered  later  on."  Miss  Mashurin  asked 
Nezhdanoff  to  take  her  to  the  town;  she  was 
obliged  to  go  thither  to  make  a  few  purchases: 
— "  and  I  can  return  from  town  on  foot — or 
I  will  get  a  lift  in  the  cart  of  some  peasant  who 
is  coming  back." — As  he  escorted  them  both  to 
the  porch,  INIarkelofF  mentioned  that  he  would 
soon  send  again  for  Nezhdanoff — and  then  .  .  . 
then  (he  gave  a  start,  and  recovered  a  little 
of  his  spirits)  —they  must  come  to  a  final  agree- 
ment; that  Solomin  would  come  also;  that  he, 
Markeloff,  was  only  waiting  for  news  from  Va- 
sily  Nikolaevitch— and  then  there  would  be  but 
one  thing  left  to  do:  to  "  set  to  work  "  without 
delay— because  the  people  (those  same  people 
who  did  not  understand  the  word  "  sympathy  ") 
would  not  consent  to  wait  any  longer ! 

"  But  were  you  not  going  to  show  me  the  letters 
of  that  .  .  .  what  's  his  name?— KislyakofF?  " 
— inquired  Nezhdanoff. 

"  Later  .  .  .  later  .  .  ."—said  Markeloff,  ha- 
stily.—" We  '11  do  everything  then,  all  together." 

The  tarantas  moved  off. 

"Hold  yourself  in  readiness!"  Markeloff's 
voice  rang  out  for  the  last  time.    He  was  standing 

132 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

on  the  steps,  and  by  his  side,  with  the  same  unal- 
terable dejection  in  his  gaze,  with  his  crooked 
form  drawn  up,  and  both  hands  crossed  behind 
his  back,  and  emitting  an  odour  of  sour  rye  bread 
and  the  Oriental  cotton-and-wool  stuff  of  his 
kaftan, — but  hearing  nothing, — stood  "  the  ser- 
vant of  servants,"  the  decrepit  old  valet  of  his 
grandfather.  Miss  Mashiirin  preserved  silence 
until  they  reached  the  town,  and  merely  smoked 
a  cigarette.  As  they  approached  the  town  bar- 
rier she  suddenly  heaved  a  loud  sigh. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  Sergyei  Mikhailovitch," — she 
said,  and  her  face  clouded  over. 

"  He  has  put  himself  to  a  lot  of  trouble," — 
remarked  NezhdanofF: — "it  strikes  me  that  his 
farm  affairs  are  in  a  bad  condition." 

"  That  is  not  the  reason  I  pity  him." 

"Why,  then?" 

"  He  is  an  unhappy,  an  unlucky  man!  .  .  . 
who  could  be  better  than  he  is ;  .  .  .  but  no,  even 
he  does  not  amount  to  much!  " 

NezhdanofF  looked  at  his  companion. 

"  Why,  do  you  know  anything?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  .  .  .  but  every  one  divines 
for  himself.    Farewell,  Alexyei  Dmitritch." 

Miss  Mashurin  alighted  from  the  tarantas, 
and  an  hour  later  NezhdanofF  was  driving  into 
the  courtyard  of  the  Sipyagin  house. — He  did 
not  feel  very  well.  .  .  He  had  passed  a  sleepless 

133 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

night  ....  and  then,  all  those  controversies  .  .  . 
those  discussions 

A  handsome  face  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  bestowed  a  friendly  smile  on  him.  ...  It  was 
INIadame  Sipyagin  welcoming  his  return. 

"  What  eyes  she  has!  "  he  said  to  himself. 


134 


XII 

A  GREAT  many  people  came  to  dinner — and  after 
dinner  NezhdanoiF,  taking  advantage  of  the  gen- 
eral commotion,  slipped  away  to  his  own  room. 
He  wanted  to  be  alone  with  himself,  if  only  for  a 
little  while,  that  he  might  reduce  to  order  the  im- 
pressions which  he  had  brought  back  from  his  trip. 
— At  table  Valentma  Mikhailovna  had  glanced 
at  him  attentively  several  times, — but  evidently 
had  no  opportunity  to  speak  to  him;  and  Mari- 
anna,  after  her  unexpected  sally,  which  had  so 
amazed  him,  seemed  to  be  overcome  with  com- 
punction, and  shunned  him. — Nezhdanoff  was 
about  to  take  up  his  pen;  he  wished  to  have  a 
chat  on  paper  with  his  friend  Silin; — but  he 
found  nothing  to  say  to  his  friend;  or,  possibly, 
so  many  contradictory  thoughts  and  sensations 
had  accumulated  in  his  head  that  he  did  not  try 
to  disentangle  them— and  he  deferred  it  until  an- 
other day.— Among  the  persons  at  dinner  had 
been  Mr.  Kallomyeitzejff ;  never  had  he  displayed 
more  arrogance  and  gentlemanly  scorn;  but  his 
free-and-easy  speeches  produced  no  effect  on 
Nezhdanoff:  he  did  not  notice  them.  A  sort  of 
cloud  enveloped  him;  it  hung  like  a  partly-dim 

135 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

curtain  between  him  and  the  rest  of  the  world— 
and,  strange  to  say,  athwart  that  curtain  only- 
three  faces  were  visible  to  him— and  all  three  the 
faces  of  women — and  all  three  had  their  eyes  in- 
tently riveted  upon  him.  They  were:  Madame 
Sipyagin,  Miss  Mashiirin,  and  Marianna.  What 
did  it  mean?  And  why  precisely  those  three  faces? 
What  had  they  in  common?  And  what  did  they 
want  of  him  ? 

He  went  to  bed  early,— but  could  not  get  to 
sleep.  He  was  haunted  by  thoughts  which  were 
not  so  much  sad  as  gloomy  .  .  .  thoughts  about 
the  inevitable  end,  about  death.  .  .  .  They  were 
familiar  to  him.  For  a  long  time  he  turned  them 
over,  in  this  direction  and  in  that,  now  shudder- 
ing before  the  probability  of  annihilation,  again 
welcoming  it,  almost  rejoicing  at  it.— At  last  he 
became  conscious  of  a  peculiar  agitation  which 
was  familiar  to  him.  .  .  .  He  rose,  seated  him- 
self at  his  writing-table,  and,  after  meditating 
a  while,  wrote  the  following  lines  in  his  private 
note-book,  almost  without  corrections: 

"  Dear  friend,  when  I  shall  die — * 
This  is  my  will  for  thee : 
The  whole  mass  of  my  writings 
Destroy  thou,  in  that  same  hour ! 
Surround  thou  me  with  flowers, 
Admit  the  sun  to  the  room — 

*I  do  not  attempt  a  metrical  translation.     The  alternate 
lines  rhyme  in  the  original.— Teanslatoe. 

136 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Behind  the  closed  doors 
Set  thou  musicians. 
Forbid  them  mournful  plaint ! 
As  at  the  hour  of  feasts, 
Let  the  audacious  waltz  shriek  forth 
'Neath  bows  of  violins ! 
As  I  hear  the  vanishing  sounds 
Of  the  strings  as  they  die  away, 
I,  too,  shall  die,  and  fall  asleep.   .  .  . 
And  troubling  not  with  groan 
The  silence  of  death  impending, 
I  shall  pass  to  the  other  world, 
Lulled  by  the  airy  sounds 
Of  airy  earthly  joy  !  " 

When  he  wrote  the  word  "  friend  "  he  was 
thinking  still  of  Silin.  He  declaimed  his  poem 
in  an  undertone — and  felt  astonished  that  it  had 
flowed  from  his  pen.  This  scepticism,  this  indif- 
ference, this  frivolous  unbelief — how  did  it  all 
accord  with  his  principles,  with  what  he  had  said 
at  MarkelofF's? — He  tossed  the  note-book  into 
the  table-drawer,  and  returned  to  his  bed.— But 
he  fell  asleep  just  before  dawn,  when  the  first 
larks  were  already  carolling  in  the  whitening 
sky. 

On  the  following  day  he  had  just  finished 
lessons  and  was  sitting  in  the  billiard-room, 
when  Madame  Sipyagin  entered,  looked  around 
her  with  a  smile,  and  stepping  up  to  him,  invited 
him  to  come  to  her  boudoir.     She  wore  a  light 

137 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

barege  gown,  very  simple  and  very  pretty:  the 
sleeves,  bordered  with  a  ruche,  only  came  as  far 
as  her  elbows,  a  broad  ribbon  encircled  her  waist, 
her  hair  fell  in  thick  masses  on  her  neck.  Every- 
thing about  her  was  redolent  of  courtesy  and 
affection — of  cautious,  encouraging  aiFection — 
everything:  the  tempered  brilliancy  of  her  half- 
closed  eyes,  the  soft  languor  of  her  voice,  of  her 
movements,  of  her  very  gait.  Madame  Sipya- 
gin  conducted  NezhdanofF  to  her  boudoir,  a 
cosey,  pleasant  room,  all  permeated  with  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers  and  perfumes,  with  the  clean 
freshness  of  feminine  attire,  of  constant  feminine 
habitation;  she  seated  him  in  an  arm-chair,  sat 
down  beside  him,  and  began  to  question  him  about 
his  little  excursion,  about  MarkelofF's  manner  of 
life— and  so  cautiously,  gently,  nicely!  She  dis- 
played genuine  sympathy  for  the  lot  of  her  bro- 
ther, whom,  up  to  that  moment — in  NezhdanofF's 
presence — she  had  never  once  mentioned.  From 
some  of  her  remarks  one  might  have  inferred 
that  the  feeling  with  which  Marianna  had  inspired 
him  had  not  escaped  her  notice;  she  fretted  a 
little  .  .  whether  because  Marianna  had  not 
shown  reciprocity,  or  because  her  brother's  choice 
had  fallen  upon  a  girl  who  was  not  congenial  to 
her,  did  not  appear.  But  the  principal  point  was 
that  she  was  openly  endeavouring  to  subjugate 
NezhdanofF,  to  inspire  him  with  confidence  in 
her,  to  make  him  cease  to  feel  shy. — Valentina 

138 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Mikhailovna  even  scolded  him  a  little  for 
entertaining  a  false  impression  with  regard  to 
her. 

Nezhdanoff  listened  to  her,  gazed  at  her  arms, 
her  shoulders,  now  and  then  cast  a  glance  at  her 
rosy  lips,  at  her  softly -waving  masses  of  hair. — 
At  first  he  made  very  brief  replies ;  he  felt  a  cer- 
tain obstruction  in  his  throat  and  breast  .  .  . 
but,  little  by  little,  this  sensation  was  supplanted 
by  another,  which  was  still  uneasy,  but  yet  not 
devoid  of  a  certain  sweetness;  he  had  not,  in  the 
least,  expected  that  such  a  great  and  beautiful 
lady,  such  an  aristocrat,  would  be  capable  of 
taking  an  interest  in  him,  a  simple  student;  but 
she  not  only  took  an  interest  in  him — she  seemed 
even  to  be  flirting  a  little  with  him.  Nezhdanoff 
asked  himself  to  what  end  was  she  doing  all  this  ? 
— and  found  no  answer;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  he 
needed  none.  Madame  Sipyagin  began  to  talk 
about  Kolya;  she  even  began  to  assure  Nezhda- 
noff that  her  sole  reason  for  wishing  to  become 
more  closely  acquainted  with  him  was  that  she 
might  have  a  serious  talk  witli  him  about  her  son — 
in  general,  to  learn  his  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
educating  Russian  children.  The  suddenness 
with  which  this  desire  had  arisen  in  her  might 
have  appeared  somewhat  strange.  But  the  point 
did  not  lie  in  the  least  in  what  Valentina  Mikhai- 
lovna said,  but  in  the  fact  that  a  sort  of  sensual 
impulse  had  overtaken  her — the  imperative  neces- 

139 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

sity  of  subjugating,  of  bringing  to  her  feet  this 
recalcitrant  head,  had  cropped  up  in  her.  .  .  . 

But  at  this  point  we  must  turn  back  for  a 
httle. 

Valentina  Mikhailovna  was  the  daughter  of  a 
very  shallow-brained  and  not  dashing  general 
with  one  star,  and  a  clasp  for  fifty  years  of  ser- 
vice,—and  of  an  extremely  intriguing  and  crafty 
little  Russian,  endowed,  like  many  of  her  com- 
patriots, with  an  extremely  simple-minded  and 
stupid  appearance,  from  which  she  contrived  to 
extract  the  utmost  possible  profit.  Valentina 
Mikhailovna's  parents  were  not  wealthy;  yet  she 
had  got  into  the  Smolny  Convent,^  where,  al- 
though she  was  regarded  as  a  republican,  she 
was  prominent  and  held  in  good  esteem,  because 
she  studied  diligently  and  behaved  herself  in 
an  exemplary  manner.  On  graduating  from  the 
Smolny  Institute,  she  settled  down,  in  company 
with  her  mother —  (her  brother  had  gone  off  to 
the  country;  the  general,  with  his  star  and  his 
clasp,  was  already  dead) — in  a  neat  but  very 
cold  apartment:  when  people  talked  in  that 
apartment,  steam  could  be  seen  issuing  from 
their  mouths;  Valentina  Mikhailovna  laughed, 
and  declared  that  it  was  "  as  it  is  in  church." 
She  bravely  endured  all  the  discomforts  of  a 

1  The  most  fashionable  and  select  of  the  Government  Institutes  for 
the  education  of  girls  from  aristocratic  families:  in  St.  Petersburg. — 
Translator. 

140 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

poor,  circumscribed  existence:— she  had  a  won- 
derfully even  temper.  With  her  mother's  aid 
she  succeeded  in  keeping  up  her  acquaintances 
and  connections,  and  making  new  ones;  every 
one  spoke  of  her,  even  in  the  highest  circles,  as  a 
very  charming,  very  well-educated,  and  very  de- 
corous young  girl.  Valentina  Mikhailovna  had 
several  suitors;  from  among  them  all  she  chose 
Sipyagin,  and  made  him  love  her  very  simply, 

promptly,  and  cleverly Moreover,  he 

speedily  comprehended  that  he  would  not  be  able 
to  find  himself  any  better  wife.  She  was  clever, 
not  ill-tempered  .  .  .  good-tempered  rather,  in 
reality  cold  and  indifferent  ....  and  never  ad- 
mitted the  idea  that  any  one  could  remain  indif- 
ferent to  her.  Valentina  Mikhailovna  was  per- 
meated with  that  special  grace  which  is  peculiar 
to  "charming"  egotists: — that  grace  contains 
neither  poetry  nor  genuine  sensibility,  but  does 
contain  softness,  sympathy,  even  tenderness. 
Only  one  must  not  thwart  these  fascinating  ego- 
tists: they  are  greedy  of  power,  and  will  not  tol- 
erate independence  in  others.  Women  like  Ma- 
dame Sipyagin  arouse  and  agitate  inexperienced 
and  passionate  men;  they  themselves  love  regu- 
larity and  tranquillity  of  life.  It  is  easy  for  them 
to  be  virtuous— they  are  cool-headed;  but  the  con- 
stant desire  to  command,  to  attract,  and  to  please 
imparts  to  them  mobility  and  brilliancy :  they  have 
a  strong  will— and  their  very  witchery  depends 

141 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

in  part  upon  that  strong  will.  ...  It  is  difficult 
for  a  man  to  resist,  when  little  flames  of  appar- 
ently involuntary  secret  tenderness  begin  to  at- 
tack such  a  dazzling,  inaccessible  creature;  he 
waits  in  the  expectation  that  the  time  may  at  any 
moment  arrive  when  the  ice  will  melt;  but  the 
brilliant  ice  merely  sparkles  with  rays  of  light 
and  does  not  melt,  and  it  can  never  be  disturbed! 
It  amounted  to  very  little  that  Madame  Sipya- 
gin  should  flirt:  she  knew  very  well  that  she  was, 
and  could  be,  in  no  danger  whatever.  And,  never- 
theless, to  make  some  one  else's  eyes  alternately 
dim  and  flash,  some  one  else's  cheeks  grow  hot 
with  desire  and  terrors,  some  one  else's  voice 
tremble  and  break,  to  disturb  some  one  else's  soul 
— oh,  how  sweet  that  was  to  lier  soul!  How  joy- 
ful it  was  to  recall  late  at  night,  as  she  laid  herself 
down  in  her  pure  bed  for  untroubled  slumber, — 
to  recall  all  those  agitated  words  and  glances  and 
sighs.  With  what  a  satisfied  smile  did  she  then 
retreat  completely  into  herself,  into  the  conscious 
sensation  of  her  inaccessibility,  of  her  impregna- 
bility— and  condescendingly  surrender  herself  to 
the  legitimate  caresses  of  her  well-trained  hus- 
band! It  was  so  agreeable  that  she  even  was 
touched  at  times,  and  was  ready  to  do  a  good 
deed  to  help  her  neighbour.  .  .  .  Once  upon  a 
time  she  had  founded  a  tiny  almshouse  after  the 
secretary  at  one  of  the  Embassies,  who  was  madly 
in  love  with  her,  had  tried  to  cut  his  throat!    She 

142 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

had  p?'ayed  sincerely  for  him,  although  religious 
feeling  had  been  weak  in  her  from  her  earliest 
years. 

So  she  chatted  with  Nezhdanoff,  and  endeav- 
oured in  every  possible  way  to  subjugate  him 
"  under  her  feet."  She  admitted  him  to  her  com- 
pany, she  even  appeared  to  open  her  heart  to  him, 
and  with  pretty  curiosity,  with  semi-maternal 
tenderness,  watched  this  far  from  homely,  and 
interesting  and  surly  radical  gently  and  awk- 
wardly advance  to  meet  her.  A  day,  an  hour,  a 
minute  later,  and  the  whole  thing  would  vanish, 
leaving  no  trace — but  for  the  moment,  she  found 
it  jolly,  somewhat  ridiculous,  rather  bothersome, 
— and  even  a  little  sad.  Having  forgotten  his 
birth,  and  aware  that  that  sort  of  attention  is 
prized  by  lonely,  shy  men,  Valentina  Mikhailovna 
undertook  to  interrogate  Nezhdanoff  about  his 
youth,  his  family.  .  .  But  instantaneously  divin- 
ing, from  his  sharp  and  embarrassed  replies,  that 
she  had  got  herself  into  a  scrape,  Valentina  Mi- 
khailovna tried  to  efface  her  mistake,  and  became 
a  trifle  more  expansive  with  him.  .  .  .  Thus  does 
a  blooming  rose,  in  the  languid  heat  of  noonday, 
open  out  its  fragrant  petals,  which  the  invigorat- 
ing coolness  of  the  night  will  soon  close  up  and 
twist  together  again. 

But  she  did  not  succeed  in  effacing  her  mistake 
altogether. — Touched  on  his  sore  spot,  Nezhda- 
noff could  no  longer  feel  confidence  as  before. 

143 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Tlie  bitterness  which  he  always  bore  about  with 
him,  which  he  always  felt  in  the  depths  of  his 
soul,  began  to  stir  again;  his  democratic  suspi- 
cions and  reproaches  awoke  once  more. — "  I  did 
not  come  hither  for  this," — he  said  to  himself. 
Paklilin's  jesting  injunctions  recurred  to  his  mind 
....  and  he  availed  himself  of  the  first  mo- 
ment of  silence,  rose  from  his  seat,  made  a  curt 
bow,  and  left  the  room — "  very  stupidly,"  as  he 
involuntarily  whispered  to  himself. 

His  agitation  did  not  escape  Valentina  Mi- 
khailovna  .  .  .  but  judging  from  the  smile 
wherewith  she  watched  him,  she  interpreted 
his  confusion  in  a  manner  advantageous  to 
herself. 

In  the  billiard-room  NezhdanofF  came  upon 
Marianna.  She  was  standing  with  her  back  to  a 
window  not  far  from  the  door  of  the  boudoir, 
with  her  hands  tightly  clasped.  Her  face  lay  in 
a  shadow  that  was  almost  black ;  but  her  bold  eyes 
stared  so  interrogatively,  so  persistently  at  Nezh- 
danofF,  her  compressed  lips  expressed  so  much 
suspicion,  such  insulting  pity,  that  he  stopped 
short  in  perplexity 

"Do  you  wish  to  say  anything  to  me?" — he 
involuntarily  said. 

Marianna  did  not  immediately  reply. 

"  No  ...  or,  yes;  I  do.    Only  not  now." 

"When?" 

"Wait.  Perhaps— to-morrow;  perhaps— never. 

144 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

You  see,  I  know  you  very  little — just  what  sort 
of  a  man  you  are." 

"  But,"— began  Nezhdanoff,— "  it  has  some- 
times seemed  to  me  ....  that  between  us " 

"  And  you  do  not  know  me  at  all," — broke  in 
Marianna. — "  So,  wait.  To-morrow,  perhaps. 
But  now  I  must  go  to  my  ....  mistress.  Fare- 
well until  to-morrow." 

NezhdanofF  advanced  a  couple  of  paces, — but 
suddenly  turned  back. 

"  Akh,  yes !  Marianna  Vikentievna  ....  I 
have  been  wanting  to  ask  you:  will  not  you  per- 
mit me  to  go  with  you  to  the  school — to  see  how 
you  occupy  yourself  there — before  they  close  it?  " 

"  If  you  like.  .  .  Only  it  was  not  about  the 
school  that  I  wished  to  speak  to  you." 

"  What  was  it  about,  then?  " 

"  Farewell  until  to-morrow,"— repeated  Mari- 
anna. 

But  she  did  not  wait  until  the  morrow,  and  the 
conversation  between  her  and  NezhdanoiF  came 
off  that  same  evening,  in  one  of  the  linden  alleys 
which  began  not  far  from  the  terrace. 


145 


XIII 

She  herself  was  the  first  to  approach  him. 

"  Mr.  Nezhdanoff,"— she  began,  in  a  hurried 
voice, — "  you  appear  to  be  completely  bewitched 
by  Valentina  Mikliailovna? " 

She  turned  away  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer, and  walked  down  the  avenue;  and  he 
walked  by  her  side. 

"Why  do  you  think  so?" — he  asked,  after 
waiting  a  little. 

"  But  is  n't  it  true?  If  it  is  not,  she  has  man- 
aged badly  to-day.  I  can  imagine  what  pains 
she  took,  and  how  she  spread  her  little  nets!  " 

Nezhdanoff  uttered  not  a  word,  and  only  gazed 
askance  at  his  strange  interlocutor. 

"  Hearken," — she  went  on:—"  I  am  not  going 
to  dissemble :  I  do  not  like  Valentina  Mikliailovna 
— and  you  know  that  very  well.  I  may  seem  un- 
just to  you  .  .  .  but  you  must  first  consider  .  .  .  ." 

Marianna's  voice  broke.  She  blushed,  she  be- 
came agitated.  .  .  Her  agitation  always  assumed 
the  aspect  of  ostensible  anger. 

"  You  are  probably  asking  yourself," — she  be- 
gan again, — "  '  Why  does  this  young  lady  tell  me 
this  ? '     You  must  have  thought  the  same  thing 

146 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

when  I  imparted  to  you  the  information  .... 
concerning  Mr.  MarkelofF." 

She  suddenly  bent  down,  plucked  a  small  mush- 
room, broke  it  in  two,  and  flung  it  aside. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Marianna  Vikentievna," 
—said  NezhdanofF:— "  on  the  contrary,  I 
thought  that  I  had  inspired  you  with  confidence 
— and  that  thought  was  very  pleasant  to  me." 

NezhdanofF  was  not  speaking  the  whole  truth : 
that  thought  had  only  that  moment  entered  his 
head. 

Marianna  instantly  cast  a  glance  at  him.  Up 
to  that  moment  she  had  kept  persistently  turned 
away  from  him. 

"  It  was  not  exactly  that  you  inspired  me  with 
confidence," — she  said,  as  though  considering  the 
matter,—"  for  you  are  an  utter  stranger  to  me.  . 
— But  your  position  and  my  own  are  very  sim- 
ilar. Both  of  us  are  equally  unhappy;  that  is  the 
bond  which  unites  us." 

"  Are  j^ou  unliappy?  " — inquired  Xezhdanoff. 

"  And  you — are  not  you?  " — replied  Marianna. 

He  said  nothing. 

"  Do  you  know  my  historj^?  "—she  began 
with  animation: — "the  history  of  my  father?  of 
his  exile? — No?  Well,  then,  you  must  know  that 
he  was  arrested,  found  guilty,  deprived  of  his 

rank and  of  everything — and  exiled  to 

Siberia.  Then  he  died  .  .  .  and  my  mother  died 
also.    My  uncle,  Mr.  Sipyagin,  my  mother's  bro- 

147 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

ther,  took  charge  of  me— I  am  eating  his  bread 
— he  is  my  benefactor  and— Valentina  Mikhai- 
lovna  is  my  benefactress — and  I  repay  them 
with  black  ingratitude, — it  must  be  because  I 
have  a  hard  heart — and  another  man's  bread  is 
bitter— and  I  cannot  endure  condescending  in- 
sults— and  I  will  not  endure  being  patronised 
.  .  .  and  I  cannot  conceal  my  feelings — and 
when  I  am  incessantly  subjected  to  pin-pricks 
I  refrain  from  crying  out,  merely  because  I  am 
proud." 

As  she  uttered  these  fragmentary  remarks 
Marianna  walked  on  faster  and  faster. 

All  at  once  she  stopped  short. 

"  Do  you  know  that  my  aunt,  merely  with  the 
object  of  getting  rid  of  me,  destines  me  to  that 
detestable  KallomyeitzefF?— But  she  knows  my 
convictions — I  am  a  nihilist  in  her  eyes — while  he! 
— Of  course  he  does  not  like  me — you  see  that  I 
am  not  handsome— but  I  may  be  sold.  That,  also, 
is  a  good  deed !  " 

"  Why  do  you  .  .  .  ."  Nezhdanoff  was  begin- 
ning— and  hesitated. 

Marianna  instantly  glanced  at  him. 

"  Why  have  not  I  accepted  Mr.  MarkelofF's 
proposal— you  mean  to  say,  don't  you?  Yes; 
but  what  am  I  to  do?  He  is  a  good  man.  But  I 
am  not  to  blame ;  I  do  not  love  him." 

Again  Marianna  walked  on  ahead,  as  though 
desirous  of  relieving  her  companion  from  the  ob- 

148 


VIRGIN  SOIL, 

ligation  to  make  any  reply  to  this  unexpected 
avowal. 

They  both  reached  the  end  of  the  avenue.  Ma- 
rianna  turned  briskly  into  a  narrow  path,  which 
was  laid  out  through  a  dense  spruce-grove,  and 
proceeded  along  it.— NezhdanofF  followed  Mari- 
anna.— He  felt  doubly  surprised:  the  manner  in 
which  this  strange  girl  was  suddenly  talking  with 
candour  to  him  struck  him  as  amazing,— and  still 
more  was  he  astonished  that  his  candour  did  not 
in  the  least  surprise  him— that  he  regarded  it  as 
natural. 

Marianna  suddenly  wheeled  round— and  halted 
in  the  middle  of  the  path,  so  that  her  face  was 
not  more  than  a  couple  of  feet  from  Nezhda- 
nofF's  face,  and  her  eyes  pierced  directly  into  his 
eyes. 

"  Alexyei  Dmitritch,"— she  said,—"  do  not 
think  that  my  aunt  is  wicked.  .  .  No !  she  is  thor- 
oughly—false, she  is  a  comedian,  she  is  fond  of 
posing— she  wants  to  have  every  one  adore  her — 
and  worship  her,  as  though  she  were  a  saint !  She 
thinks  up  a  cordial  remark,  and  says  it  to  one  per- 
son,—and  then  she  repeats  that  same  remark  to  a 
second  and  a  third  person— and  always  with  the 
same  air,  as  though  she  had  only  just  thought  of 
it— and  in  connection  with  it,  she  uses  her  magnifi- 
cent eyes !  She  knows  herself  perfectly  well— she 
knows  that  she  resembles  a  Madonna,  and  she 
loves  no  one!     She  pretends  that  she  is  always 

149 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

worrying  over  Kolya— but  all  she  does  is  to  talk 
him  over  with  clever  people.  She  wishes  no  harm 
to  any  one  .  .  .  she  is  all  benevolence!— But  if 
they  were  to  break  all  the  bones  in  your  body  in 
her  presence — she  would  not  care  a  jot!  She 
would  not  move  a  finger  to  rescue  you; — but  if  it 
were  necessary  or  profitable  to  herself  .  .  .  then 
....  oh,  then !  " 

Marianna  paused.  Rancour  was  choking  her; 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  set  it  at  liberty,  she 
could  not  restrain  herself — but  her  speech  in- 
voluntarily broke  off  short.  Marianna  belonged 
to  a  peculiar  category  of  unhappy  people  (they 
have  begun  to  make  their  appearance  pretty  fre- 
quently in  Russia).  .  .  .  Justice  satisfies  but 
does  not  gladden  them;  while  injustice,  to  which 
they  are  frightfully  sensitive,  stirs  them  up  to 
the  very  bottom  of  the  soul.— While  she  was 
speaking  NezhdanofF  gazed  attentively  at  her; 
her  reddened  face,  with  her  slightly  dishevelled 
short  hair,  and  the  tremulous  twitching  of  her 
thin  lips,  struck  him  as  menacing  and  significant, 
—and  beautiful.  The  sunlight,  intercepted  by 
the  thick  network  of  the  branches,  lay  upon  her 
brow  in  a  slanting  golden  stain;  and  that  fiery 
tongue  harmonised  with  the  excited  expression  of 
her  whole  countenance,  with  the  widely-opened, 
fixed,  and  sparkling  eyes,  with  the  burning  sound 
of  her  voice. 

"  Tell  me," — NezhdanofF  suddenly  asked  her, 

150 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

— "  why  did  you  call  me  unhappy?   Do  you  know 
anything  about  my  past  ?  " 

Marianna  nodded  her  head. 

"  Yes." 

"  That  is  to  say  ....  what  do  you  know? 
Has  any  one  told  you  about  me?  " 

"  I  know  .  .  .  about  your  birth." 

"You  know.  .  .  Who  told  you?" 

"  Why,  that  same  person — that  same  Valentina 
Mikhailovna,  with  whom  you  are  so  enchanted. 
She  did  not  omit  to  mention  in  my  presence — 
as  a  passing  remark,  after  her  usual  fashion,  but 
still  distinctly — not  with  pity,  but  as  a  woman 
of  liberal  views,  who  is  above  all  prejudices — 
that  such  and  such  an  accident  existed  in  the  life 
of  our  new  tutor!  Pray  do  not  feel  surprised: 
Valentina  Mikhailovna,  in  the  same  casual  man- 
ner and  with  commiseration,  imparts  to  almost 
every  visitor  that  '  this  sort  of  an  ...  .  acci- 
dent .  .  exists  in  the  life  of  my  niece :  her  father 
was  sent  to  Siberia  for  taking  bribes.'  No  mat- 
ter how  much  of  an  aristocrat  she  may  consider 
herself  to  be,  she  is  simply  a  scandal-monger  and 
poseuse — that  Raphael  Madonna  of  yours!  " 

"  Pray,  why  is  she  '  my  '  Madonna?  "  remarked 
NezhdanofF. 

Marianna  turned  away,  and  again  proceeded 
along  the  path. 

"  You  and  she  had  such  a  long  conversation 
together," — she  said  dully. 

151 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  I  hardly  uttered  a  single  word,"— replied 
NezhdanofF:— "she  talked  the  whole  time  her- 
self." 

Marianna  walked  on  in  silence.  But  now  the 
path  made  a  turn  to  one  side;  the  spruce-grove 
seemed  to  open  out  and  reveal  ahead  a  small 
glade  with  a  hollow  weeping  birch  in  the  centre, 
and  a  circular  bench  which  surrounded  the  aged 
tree.  Marianna  seated  herself  on  this  bench; 
NezhdanofF  placed  himself  beside  her.  Over 
the  heads  of  both  long  tufts  of  drooping  boughs, 
covered  with  tiny  green  leaves,  swayed  gently  to 
and  fro.  Round  about  among  the  sparse  grass 
lilies-of-the-valley  gleamed  whitely,  and  from 
the  whole  glade  welled  up  the  fresh  fragrance  of 
the  young  herbage,  which  agreeably  relieved  the 
lungs,  still  oppressed  by  resinous  exhalations. 

"  You  wish  to  go  with  me  to  inspect  the  school 
here,"— began  Marianna;— "  well,  let  us  go.— 
Only  ...  I  do  not  know.  You  will  not  take 
much  satisfaction  in  it.  You  have  heard :  our  head 
teacher  is— the  deacon.  He  is  a  good  man,  but 
you  cannot  imagine  what  things  he  talks  about  to 
his  pupils!  Among  them  is  one  boy  .  .  .  his 
name  is  Garasya— he  is  an  orphan,  ten  years  of 
/  age— and,  just  imagine!  he  studies  better  than 
all  the  rest! " 

In  suddenly  changing  the  subject  of  conver- 
sation, Marianna  herself  seemed  to  undergo  a 
change  also:  she  turned  pale  and  silent,  and  her 

15^ 


r 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

face  expressed  emotion,  as  though  she  were 
ashamed  of  all  that  she  had  been  saying.  Obvi- 
ously, she  wished  to  lead  Nezhdanoif  to  some 
"  question  "  or  other— the  school  question,  the 
question  of  the  peasants — anything  to  avoid 
continuing  in  their  former  vein.  But  he 
was  not  in  the  mood  for  "  questions  "  at  that 
moment. 

"  Marianna  Vikentievna," — he  began,  "  I  will 
say  to  you  frankly :  I  never  expected  all  this  .  .  . 
that  has  taken  place  between  us."—  (At  the 
words  "  taken  place  "  she  pricked  up  her  ears  a 
little.)  — "  It  seems  to  me  that  we  have  suddenly 
come  very  close  together.  That  is  as  it  should 
be.  We  have  been  advancing  toward  each  other 
for  a  long  time ;  only,  we  have  put  it  into  words. 
— And  therefore  I  will  speak  to  you  without 
concealment. — You  find  life  difficult  and  painful 
in  this  house;  but  your  uncle,  although  shallow- 
pated,  is,  so  far  as  I  can  judge  of  him,  a  humane 
man  ?  Does  not  he  understand  your  position,  does 
not  he  take  your  part?  " 

"  My  uncle?  In  the  first  place,  he  is  not  a 
man  at  all;  he  is  an  official— a  senator,^  or  a 
Minister  ...  I  really  do  not  know  what.  And, 
in  the  second  place,  ...  I  do  not  care  to  com- 
plain and  tell  tales  unnecessarily:  I  do  not  find 
life  here  difficult  or  painful  in  the  least — that  is 
to  say,  I  am  not  persecuted  here ;  my  aunt's  little 

*A  member  of  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court.— Translatoh. 

153 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

pin-pricks  are  nothing  to  me,  really  ...  I  am 
perfectly  free." 

NezhdanoiF  cast  a  glance  of  surprise  at  Mari- 
anna. 

"  In  that  case  ....  everything  that  you  have 
just  been  telling  me  .  .  .  ." 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  laugh  at  me,"— she  in- 
terposed:—" but  if  I  am  unhappy,  it  is  not  with 
my  own  unhappiness.  — It  sometimes  seems  to  me 
that  I  suffer  on  behalf  of  all  the  oppressed,  the 
poor,  the  wretched  in  Russia  ...  no,  I  do  not 
suffer  .  .  .  but  I  am  indignant  on  their  behalf, 
I  rage  ...  so  that  I  am  ready  to  lay  down  my 
life  for  them.  I  am  unhappy  because  I  am  a 
young  lady,  a  parasite,  that  I  do  not  know  how  to 
do  anything— anything  whatever!  When  my  fa- 
ther was  in  Siberia,  and  my  mother  and  I  re- 
mained in  Moscow,— akh,  how  I  longed  to  go  to 
him!— and  that,  not  because  I  either  loved  or 
respected  him  very  much— but  I  did  so  want  to 
find  out  for  myself,  to  behold  with  my  own  eyes, 
how  the  exiles  ....  the  persecuted  .  .  .  live  .... 
And  how  vexed  I  was  at  myself,  and  at  all  those 
calm,  well-to-do,  satiated  people!  ....  And 
then,  when  he  came  back,  worn  out,  broken  in 
health,  and  began  to  humble  himself,  to  worry 
and  search  .  .  .  akh  .  .  how  painful  that  was! 
How  well  it  was  that  he  died  .  .  .  and  my  mother 
also!  But  I  remained  alive.  ...  To  what  end? 
In  order  to  feel  that  I  have  a  bad  disposition,  that 

154. 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

I  am  ungrateful,  that  no  one  can  get  on  with  me 
— and  that  I  can  do  nothing,  nothing — for  any- 
thing or  for  any  one !  " 

Marianna  bent  to  one  side— her  hand  slipped 
down  on  the  bench.  Nezhdanoff  felt  very  sorry 
for  her;  he  touched  that  hanging  hand  .  .  .  but 
Marianna  immediately  jerked  it  away,  not  be- 
cause NezhdanofF's  gesture  struck  her  as  im- 
proper, but  lest  he— which  God  forbid— should 
think  that  she  was  asking  for  sympathy. 

A  woman's  garment  glinted  through  the 
boughs  of  the  spruce-grove. 

Marianna  straightened  herself  up. — "  Look 
there,  your  Madonna  has  sent  out  her  spy.  That 
maid  has  to  keep  watch  of  me,  and  report  to  her 
mistress  where  I  go,  and  with  whom! — My  aunt 
has  probably  guessed  that  I  am  with  you, — con- 
siders it  indecorous — especially  after  the  senti- 
mental scene  which  she  acted  out  before  you. 
And,  in  fact,  it  is  time  to  go  home.  Let  us  set 
out." 

Marianna  rose;  Nezhdanoff  also  rose  from  his 
seat.  She  glanced  at  him  over  her  shoulder,  and 
suddenly  there  flitted  across  her  face  an  expres- 
sion which  was  almost  childlike,  charming,  rather 
confused. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  angry  with  me?  You 
do  not  think  that  I,  too,  have  been  showing  off 
to  you? — No,  you  do  not  think  so," — she  went  on, 
before  Nezhdanoff  could  make  her  any  answer, — 

155 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  for  you  are  just  such  another  as  myself,— an 
unhappy  being,— and  you,  also,  have  a  bad  dispo- 
sition, like  myself.— And  to-morrow  we  will  go 
together  to  the  school,  because  now,  you  know, 
we  are  good  friends." 

When  Marianna  and  Nezhdano:^*  approached 
the  house,  Valentina  Mikhailovna  was  staring  at 
them  through  her  lorgnette  from  the  elevation  of 
the  terrace — and,  with  her  usual  gentle  smile,  was 
shaking  her  head ;  and  returning  through  the  open 
glass  door  to  the  drawing-room,  where  Sipyagin 
was  still  sitting  over  his  game  of  preference,  with 
a  toothless  neighbour  who  had  dropped  in  to  tea, 
she  said  loudly,  and  in  a  deliberate  drawl,  sepa- 
rating syllable  from  syllable: 

"  How  damp  it  is  out  of  doors!     It  is  un 
healthful!" 

Marianna  exchanged  a  glance  with  Nezhda- 
noff ;  but  Sipyagin,  who  had  just  out-trumped 
his  partner,  cast  at  his  wife  a  truly  ministerial 
glance,  obliquely  and  upward  across  his  cheek — 
and  then  transferred  that  same  sleepily  cold,  but 
penetrating  glance  to  the  young  pair  who  had  just 
entered  from  the  dark  garden. 


156 


XIV 

Two  weeks  more  passed. — Everything  went  on 
in  its  wonted  routine.  Sipyagin  portioned  out  the 
daily  duties — if  not  like  a  minister,  then  certainly 
like  the  director  of  a  department — and  bore  him- 
self, as  before,  loftily,  humanely,  and  in  a  some- 
what fastidious  manner;  Kolya  took  his  lessons; 
Anna  Zakharovna  was  tormented  with  constant, 
oppressive  spite;  guests  arrived,  talked,  waged 
battle  at  cards — and,  to  all  appearances,  were  not 
bored;  Valentina  Mikhailovna  continued  to  trifle 
with  NezhdanofF — although  something  in  the  na- 
ture of  good-natured  irony  had  begun  to  mingle 
with  her  amiability.  With  JNIarianna,  Nezhdanoff 
had  become  definitively  on  intimate  terms — and, 
to  his  astonishment,  he  found  that  she  had  a  toler- 
ably even  temper,  and  that  it  was  possible  to  con- 
verse with  her  on  every  subject  without  coming 
into  conflict  with  harsh  contradictions. — In  her 
company  he  twice  visited  the  school, — but  at  his 
first  visit  he  became  convinced  that  there  was  noth- 
ing for  him  to  do  there.  The  reverend  deacon 
taught  reading  and  writing  not  badly,  although 
in  old-fashioned  style— but  at  the  examinations 
he  propounded  somewhat  absurd  questions;  for 

157 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

example,  he  one  day  asked  Garasya:  "  how  wilt 
thou  explain  the  expression :  '  the  water  is  dark  in 
the  clouds? '  " — to  which  Garasya  replied,  in  ac- 
cordance with  information  which  must  have  been 
derived  from  the  father  deacon  himself:  "  It  is  in- 
explicable." However,  the  school  was  soon  closed, 
— on  account  of  the  summer  season— until  the  au- 
tumn.—  Calling  to  mind  the  exhortations  of 
Pakhlin  and  others,  ISTezhdanofF  endeavoured  also 
to  come  into  close  relations  with  the  peasants ;  but 
he  speedily  perceived  that  he  was  simply  studying 
them  to  the  extent  of  his  own  powers  of  observa- 
tion—and not  making  propaganda  at  all!  He 
had  spent  almost  all  his  life  in  the  town, — and 
between  him  and  the  country  people  there  existed 
a  gulf,  or  a  ditch,  across  which  he  could  in  no 
wise  leap.  Nezhdanoff  had  occasion  to  exchange 
a  few  words  with  Kirilo  the  sot,  and  also  with 
"Porpoise"  Mendelyei;  but,  strange  to  say,  he 
seemed  to  feel  timid  in  their  presence,  and  with 
the  exception  of  a  very  general  and  very  curt 
curse,  he  got  nothing  from  them.  Another 
peasant— his  name  was  Fitiueif— simply  drove 
him  to  his  wits'  end.  This  peasant  had  a  re- 
markably energetic,  almost  brigand-like  face.  .  . 
"  Well,  this  fellow  certainly  must  be  trust- 
worthy!"— said  Nezhdanoff  to  himself.  .  . 
And  what  happened?  Fitiiieff  turned  out  to 
be  a  landless  peasant:  the  Commune  had  de- 
prived him  of  his  land  because  he— a  healthy  and 

158 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

even  powerful  man — could  not  work. — "  I 
can't!" — sobbed  FitiuefF  himself,  with  a  deep, 
inward  groan,  heaving  a  long  sigh:— "I  can't 
work!  kill  me! — Or  I  '11  lay  hands  on  myself!  " — 
And  he  ended  by  asking  alms — just  a  little  cop- 
per for  bread.  .  .  And  his  face  was  like  that  of 
Rinaldo  Rinaldi! — NezhdanofF  had  no  success 
whatever  with  the  factory-hands ;  all  those  young 
fellows  were  either  frightfully  alert  or  fright- 
fully gloomy  .  .  .  and  nothing  came  of  Nezhda- 
nolF's  efforts  with  them.  In  this  connection,  he 
wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  friend  Silin,  in  which  he 
complained  bitterly  of  his  own  ignorance,  and 
attributed  it  to  his  own  bad  education  and  abom- 
inable aesthetic  nature !  He  suddenlj'^  took  it  into 
his  head  that  his  vocation — in  the  matter  of  the 
propaganda — was  to  act,  not  with  the  living  word 
of  mouth,  but  by  writing;  but  the  pamphlets 
which  he  planned  came  to  nothing.  Everything 
which  he  tried  to  set  down  on  paper  produced 
upon  himself  the  impression  of  something  false, 
strained,  untruthful  in  tone,  in  language, — and 
a  couple  of  times,  oh,  horrors! — he  involuntarily 
branched  off  into  poetry,  or  into  sceptical,  per- 
sonal effusions.  He  even  made  up  his  mind  (an 
important  token  of  confidence  and  intimacy ! )  . . . 
to  speak  of  his  ill-success  to  JNIarianna  ....  and 
again,  to  his  surprise,  he  found  in  her  sympathy 
—not  for  his  literary  productions,  of  course— but 
for  that  moral  malady  with  which  he  was  suff er- 

159 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

ing,  and  which  was  no  stranger  to  her.  Marl- 
anna  rebelled  against  aesthetics  as  strongly  as  he 
did;— and  was  that  the  real  reason  why  she  had 
not  fallen  in  love  with  MarkelofF  and  had  not 
married  him,  that  there  was  not  a  single  trace  of 
that  a?stheticism  in  him?— As  a  matter  of  course, 
JMarianna  did  not  dare  to  admit  this  even  to  her- 
self ;  but,  after  all,  only  that  is  strong  in  us  which 
remains  to  us  ourselves  a  half -suspected  secret. 

And  so  the  days  ran  on— slowly,  unevenly,  but 
not  tediously. 

Something  strange  took  place  in  NezhdanofF. 
He  was  dissatisfied  with  himself,  with  his  activity 
—that  is  to  say,  with  his  lack  of  activity;  his  re- 
marks almost  always  reeked  of  the  gall  and  viru- 
lence of  self-flagellation;  but  in  his  soul,  some- 
where, very  far  within,  things  were  not  so  bad; 
he  even  experienced  a  certain  sense  of  solace. 
Whether  this  was  the  result  of  the  country  tran- 
quillity, the  air,  the  summer,  the  savoury  food,  the 
comfortable  existence,— whether  it  arose  from  the 
fact  that,  for  the  first  time  since  he  was  born,  it 
had  fallen  to  his  lot  to  taste  the  sweetness  of  con- 
tact with  a  feminine  soul— it  would  be  difficult 
to  say;  but,  in  reality,  he  felt  light  at  heart,  al- 
though he  made  complaint— genuine  complaint— 
to  his  friend  Silin. 

But  this  mood  of  NezhdanofF's  was  suddenly 
and  violently  destroyed— in  one  day. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day  he  received  a  note 

160 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

from  Vasily  Nikolaevitch,  in  which  he  was  or- 
dered, in  company  with  JNIarkelofF, — while  await- 
ing further  instructions, — instantly  to  make  ac- 
quaintance and  come  to  an  agreement  with  that 
Solomin  who  has  already  been  mentioned,  and 
with  a  certain  merchant  Goliishkin,  an  Old  Ritu- 
alist,^ who  resided  in  S.  This  letter  thoroughly 
disquieted  NezhdanoiF :  he  detected  in  it  a  reproof 
for  his  inaction.  The  bitterness  which,  all  that 
time,  had  been  seething  in  his  words  alone,  now 
rose  once  more  in  the  depths  of  his  soul. 

KallomyeitzefF  came  to  dinner,  preoccupied 
and  irritable. — "  Imagine," — he  cried,  in  a  voice 
that  was  almost  tearful,—"  what  a  horror  I  have 
just  read  in  the  newspaper:— "  my  friend,  my 
dear  ]Mildiailo,  the  Prince  of  Servia,  has  been 
murdered  in  Belgrade  by  some  miscreants! — To 
what  lengths  will  these  Jacobins  and  revolution- 
ists proceed,  if  we  do  not  put  a  firm  limit  to 
them!" — Sipyagin  "permitted  himself  to  re- 
mark," that  that  abominable  murder  had  not,  in 
all  probability,  been  committed  by  Jacobins — 
"  who  are  not  allowed  in  Servia," — but  by  men  of 
the  Karageorgevitch  i)arty,  the  enemies  of  the 
Obrenovitches.  .  .  .  But  KallomyeitzeiF  would 
hear  to  nothing,  and  in  the  same  tearful  voice  he 
again  began  to  narrate  how  the  deceased  prince 

1  The  Old  Ritualists,  or  schismatics  (raskolniki),  are  the  sect 
which  did  not  accept  the  necessary  corrections  of  errors  in  the 
Scriptures  and  church  service-boolis,  made  during  the  reign  of 
Peter  the  Great's  father.— Translator. 

161 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

had  loved  him,  and  what  a  gun  he  had  given  him ! 
....  Gradually  waxing  angry,  and  rising  into 
a  passion,  KallomyeitzefF  turned  from  foreign 
Jacobins  to  domestic  nihilists  and  socialists— and, 
at  last,  burst  out  into  a  regular  invective.  Grasp- 
ing a  large  white  roll  in  both  hands,  in  fashionable 
style,  and  breaking  it  in  two  over  his  plate  of 
soup,  as  the  genuine  Parisians  do  at  the  "  Cafe 
Riche," — he  announced  a  desire  to  smash,  to  pul- 
verise all  those  who  offered  oj)j)osition  ...  to 
an ji:hing  or  anybody  whatsoever !  .  .  .  That  was 
precisely  the  way  in  which  he  expressed  himself. — 
"  It  is  time,  high  time!  "—he  kept  repeating,  as  he 
put  his  spoon  into  his  mouth: — "  it  is  time,  high 
time !  "  he  insisted,  as  he  held  up  his  wine-glass  to 
the  servant  who  was  pouring  out  the  sherry.  He 
alluded  reverently  to  the  great  Moscow  publicists 
— and  JLadislaSj  notre  hon  et  cher  Ladislas,  never 
left  his  tongue.— And  all  the  while  he  kept  fixing 
his  gaze  on  NezhdanofF,  exactly  as  though  he 
were  saying  familiarly  to  him  with  it.—"  Here, 
take  that!  here  's  a  blow  for  thee!  that  's  aimed 
at  thee!  And  here  's  another!"— At  last,  the 
latter  lost  his  patience — and  began  to  retort — in 
a  voice  which  trembled  somewhat,  it  is  true  (of 
course,  not  with  timidity) ,  and  was  rather  hoarse; 
he  began  to  defend  the  hopes,  the  principles,  the 
ideals  of  the  young  generation.  Kallomyeitzeff 
instantly  began  to  squeak — wrath  always  mani- 
fested itself  in  his  case  by  a  falsetto  tone — and  be- 

163 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

came  rude.  Sipyagin  majestically  took  Nezh- 
danofF's  part ;  Valentma  IMikhailovna  also  agreed 
with  her  husband;  Amia  Zakharovna  began  to 
divert  Kolya's  attention,  and  hurled  angry 
glances,  at  random,  from  beneath  her  over-hang- 
ing cap ;  ]Marianna  did  not  stir,  and  seemed  to  be 
petrified. 

But  all  at  once,  on  hearing  the  name  of  Ladislas 
uttered  for  the  twentieth  time,  NezhdanofF 
flared  up  thoroughly,  and  bringing  his  palm 
down  on  the  table  with  a  bang,  exclaimed: 

"  So  that 's  your  authority! — As  though  we  did 
not  know  what  sort  of  a  fellow  that  Ladislas  is! 
— He  is  a  born  instigator, — and  nothing  more!  " 

"  A  ...  a  ...  ah  ...  so  that  's  it  .  .  . 
that  's  .  .  .  what  you  're  driving  at!  " — groaned 
KallomyeitzefF,  stammering  with  rage. ..."  You 
permit  yourself  to  speak  thus  of  a  man  whom 
personages  like  Count  Bismarck  and  Prince  Ko- 
vrizhkin  respect! " 

Nezhdanofl"  shrugged  his  shoulders. — "A  fine 
recommendation :  Prince  Kovrizhkin,  that  lackey- 
enthusiast " 

"  Ladislas  is  my  friend,"— shrieked  Kallo- 
myeitzefF,— "  he  is  my  comrade — and  I  .  .  ." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you,"— interrupted 
NezhdanofF;— "  that  signifies  that  j^ou  share  his 
mode  of  thought,  and  so  my  words  refer  also  to 

you." 

KallomyeitzefF  turned  deadly  pale  with  rage. 

163 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

— "  Wha  ....  wha-at?  What  do  you  mean? 
How  dare  you?  You  ou  .  .  .  ought  ...  to  be 
immediately  .  .  .  ." 

"  What  is  it  your  pleasure  to  do  with  me  im- 
mediately? " — interrupted  NezhdanofF  for  the 
second  time,  with  ironical  politeness. 

God  knows  how  this  f rav  between  the  two  ene- 
mies  would  have  ended,  had  not  Sipyagin  put  a 
stop  to  it  in  its  very  inception.  Raising  his  voice, 
and  assuming  a  mien,  as  to  which  it  cannot  be 
said  whether  there  predominated  in  it  the  impor- 
tance of  the  statesman  or  the  dignity  of  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house— he  announced,  with  firm  com- 
posure, that  he  did  not  wish  to  hear  such  intem- 
perate expressions  at  his  table;  that  he  had  long 
since  established  a  rule  (he  corrected  himself, 
"a  sacred  rule"),  for  himself,  to  respect  every 
sort  of  conviction,  but  only  on  condition—  (here 
he  raised  his  forefinger,  adorned  with  a  signet- 
ring),  that  they  should  be  confined  within  certain 
limits  of  propriety  and  decorum;  that  if  he,  on 
his  side,  could  not  help  condemning  in  Mr.  Nezh- 
danofF  a  certain  intemperance  of  language,  which, 
moreover,  was  to  be  excused  on  account  of  his 
youth,  on  the  other  hand,  neither  could  he  lend  his 
approbation  to  Mr.  KallomyeitzefF  in  the  harsh- 
ness of  his  attack  on  persons  of  the  opposite  camp 
— a  harshness  which  was  to  be  explained,  however, 
by  his  zeal  for  the  public  welfare. 

"  Beneath  my  roof,"— thus  he  wound  up,— 

164 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  beneath  the  roof  of  the  Sipyagins  there  are  no 
Jacobins,  no  instigators,  but  there  are  only  con- 
scientious people,  who,  one  of  these  days  will  em- 
brace one  another,  and  will,  infallibly,  end  by 
shaking  hands  with  one  another!  " 

NezhdanofF  and  KallomyeitzeiF  both  relapsed 
into  silence — but  they  did  not  shake  hands  with 
each  other.  On  the  contrary,  never  before  had 
they  felt  such  a  strong  mutual  hatred.  The  din- 
ner ended  in  a  disagreeable  and  awkward  silence ; 
Sipyagin  made  an  effort  to  narrate  a  diplomatic 
anecdote — but  abandoned  it  half-way  through. 
Marianna  stared  persistently  at  her  plate.  She 
did  not  wish  to  exhibit  the  sympathy  aroused  in 
her  by  Nezhdanoif 's  remarks,  not  out  of  pusil- 
lanimity— oh,  no;  but  the  first  thing  of  all  was, 
not  to  betray  herself  to  Madame  Sipyagin.  And, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  IMadame  Sipyagin  never  took 
her  eyes  off  of  her — off  of  her  and  NezhdanofF. 
His  unexpected  outburst  had  at  first  astonished 
the  clever  lady ;  afterward,  a  sudden  light  seemed 
to  dawn  upon  her — and  so  forcibly,  that  she  whis- 
pered involuntarily: — "All!"  .  .  .  She  sud- 
denly divined  that  NezhdanofF  had  turned  away 
from  her,  that  same  NezhdanofF,  who  so  recently 
had  been  falling  into  her  clutches.  Something 
had  happened.  .  .  Was  not  Marianna  responsi- 
ble? Yes,  it  certainly  was  Marianna.  .  .  He 
pleased  her  .  .  .  yes,  and  he  ...  . 

"  I  must  take  measures,"  so  she  concluded  her 

165 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

meditations,  and,  in  the  meantime,  KallomyeitzefF 
was  choking  with  rage.  Even  while  playing 
at  preference,  two  hours  later,  he  uttered  the 
words:  "  I  pass!  "  or  '*  I  draw!  "  with  an  aching 
heart— and  in  his  voice  the  dull  tremolo  of  affront 
was  audible,  although  he  made  a  show  of  "  scorn- 
ing it." — Sipyagin  alone  was,  properly  speaking, 
extremely  satisfied  with  himself,  with  this  entire 
scene.  He  had  had  an  opportunity  to  display  the 
force  of  his  eloquence,  and  of  stilling  the  rising 
storm.  .  .  .  He  knew  the  Latin  tongue,  and  Vir- 
gil's phrase,  "  Quos  ego! "  was  not  unfamiliar  to 
him.  He  did  not  consciously  compare  himself  to 
Neptune ;  but  somehow,  he  called  him  to  mind  in 
a  sympathetic  way. 


J66 


XV 

As  soon  as  he  found  it  possible,  NezhdanofF  be- 
took himself  to  his  chamber,  and  locked  himself 
in! — He  did  not  wish  to  see  any  one — not  any  one 
whatever,  except  Marianna.  Her  room  was  situ- 
ated at  the  very  end  of  a  long  corridor,  which  in- 
tersected the  entire  upper  story.  Nezhdanoff 
had  entered  it  only  once— and  that  for  only  a  few 
moments;  but  it  seemed  to  him,  that  she  would 
not  be  offended  with  him  if  he  were  to  knock  at 
her  door,  that  she  even  wished  to  talk  over  matters 
with  him.  It  was  already  rather  late,  about  ten 
o'clock ;  the  host  and  hostess,  after  the  scene  which 
had  taken  place  at  dinner,  had  not  thought  it  right 
to  disturb  him,  and  had  continued  to  play  cards 
with  Kallomyeitzeff .  Valentina  INIikhailovna  in- 
quired for  Marianna  a  couple  of  times  as  she,  also, 
had  disappeared  after  dinner.—"  Where  is  Mari- 
anna Vikentievna?  "—she  asked,  first  in  Russian, 
then  in  French,  not  addressing  herself  to  any  one 
in  particular,  but  rather  to  the  walls,  as  very  much 
surprised  people  are  wont  to  do ;  but  she  soon  be- 
came engrossed  in  her  game. 

Nezhdanoff  paced  up  and  down  his  room  sev- 
eral times,  then  went  down  the  corridor,  toward 

167 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Marianna's  door,  and  knocked  softly.  There  was 
no  response.  He  knocked  again— he  tried  to  oj^en 
the  door.  .  .  It  turned  out  to  be  locked.  But 
before  he  could  regain  his  own  room,  and  seat 
himself  on  a  chair,  his  own  door  creaked  faintly, 
and  Marianna's  voice  made  itself  heard. 

"  Alexyei  Dmitritch,  was  it  you  who  came  to 
my  room? " 

He  instantly  sprang  up  and  rushed  into  the 
corridor;  Marianna  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
door,  with  a  candle  in  her  hand,  pale  and  motion- 
less. 

"  Yes  ...  it  was  I  .  .  ."he  whispered. 

"  Come,"— she  replied,  and  went  down  the  cor- 
ridor ;  but  before  reaching  the  end,  she  halted,  and 
thrust  open  with  her  hand  a  low  door.  Nezhda- 
nofF  beheld  a  small,  almost  emj)ty  room.—"  It  is 
better  for  us  to  come  in  here,  Alexyei  Dmitritch, 
no  one  will  disturb  us  here."  NezhdanofF  obeyed, 
Marianna  set  the  candle  down  on  the  window-sill 
and  turned  to  NezhdanofF. 

"  I  understand  why  you  wished  to  see  me,  in 
particular,"— she  began:—"  You  find  life  in  this 
house  very  difficult — and  so  do  I." 

"  Yes;  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Marianna  Viken- 
tievna,"— replied  NezhdanoiF; — "  but  I  have  not 
found  things  difficult  here,  since  I  came  to  know 
you  well." 

Marianna  smiled  thoughtfully. 

"  Thank  you,  Alexyei  Dmitritch— but  tell  me, 

168 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

is  it  possible  that  you  intend  to  remain  here  after 
all  tliese  outrageous  proceedings?  " 

"  I  think  I  shall  not  be  allowed  to  remain  here, 
— I  shall  be  dismissed!  " — replied  NezhdanofF. 

"  And  you  will  not  resign  of  your  own  ac- 
cord?" 

"  Of  my  own  accord.  .  .  .  ISTo." 

"Why?" 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  the  truth  ?  Because  you 
are  here." 

Marianna  bowed  her  head,  and  retreated  a  little 
further  into  the  depths  of  the  room. 

"  And,  more  than  that," — pursued  ISTezhda- 
noiF, — "  I  am  hound  to  remain  here.  You  know 
nothing — but  I  wish,  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  tell 
you  eveiy thing." — He  stepped  uj)  to  Marianna, 
and  seized  her  hand. — She  did  not  take  it  away — 
and  merely  looked  him  in  the  face. — "  Listen!  " 
— he  exclaimed  with  a  sudden,  mighty  impulse. — 
"Listen  to  me!" — And  immediately,  without 
seating  himself  on  one  of  the  two  or  three  chairs 
which  were  in  the  room,  and  continuing  to  stand 
in  front  of  Marianna,  and  to  hold  her  hand,  Nezh- 
danoiF  with  enthusiasm,  with  warmth,  with  an 
eloquence  which  was  unexpected  even  to  himself, 
communicated  to  Marianna  his  plans,  his  inten- 
tions, the  reason  he  had  accepted  Sipyagin's  pro- 
posal,—all  his  connections,  acquaintances,  his 
past,  everything  which  he  had  been  wont  to  con- 
ceal, which  he  had  never  told  to  any  one!     He 

169 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

mentioned  the  letters  he  had  received  from  Vasily 
Nikolaevitch,  everything— even  Sihn!— he  talked 
hurriedly,  without  hesitation,  without  the  slight- 
est faltering — as  though  he  reproached  himself 
for  not  having  hitherto  initiated  Marianna  into 
all  his  secrets — as  though  he  were  excusing  him- 
self to  her. — She  listened  to  him  attentively, 
eagerly;  at  first  she  was  surprised.  .  .  But  that 
sensation  immediately  vanished.  Gratitude, 
pride,  devotion,  decision — was  what  filled  her  face 
to  overflowing.  Her  face,  her  eyes  beamed;  she 
laid  her  other  hand  on  Nezhdanoff' s  hand — her 
lips  opened  in  ecstasy.  .  .  She  had  suddenly 
grown  terribly  beautiful. 

He  stopped  at  last — glanced  at  her,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  he  beheld  for  the  first  time  that 
face,  which  was  also  so  dear  and  so  familiar  to 
him. 

He  heaved  a  profound,  a  mighty  sigh.  .  . 

"  Akh,  how  well  I  have  done  to  tell  you  all  I  " 
— his  lips  were  barely  able  to  articulate. 

"  Yes,  you  have  done  well  .  .  you  have  done 
well!  " — she  repeated,  also  in  a  whisper.  She  in- 
voluntarily imitated  him— and  her  voice  died 
away. — "  And,  of  course,  you  know,"  she  went 
on, — "  that  I  am  at  your  disposal,  that  I  also  wish 
to  be  of  use  in  your  affair,  that  I  am  ready  to 
do  everything  that  is  necessary,  to  go  anywhere 
that  I  may  be  ordered,  that  I  always,  with  all  my 
soul,  have  wished  the  same  as  you.  .  ." 

170 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

She,  too,  fell  silent.  One  word  more— and 
tears  of  emotion  would  have  gushed  from  her 
eyes.  Her  whole  sturdy  being  had  suddenly  be- 
come as  soft  as  wax.  The  thirst  for  activity,  for 
sacrifice,  for  immediate  sacrifice— that  was  what 
was  causing  her  to  languish. 

Some  one's  footsteps  approached  the  door — 
cautious,  swift,  light  footsteps.  Marianna  sud- 
denly drew  herself  up,  released  her  hands — and 
inmiediately  underwent  a  complete  change,  and 
grew  merry.  A  scornful,  even  an  audacious  ex- 
pression flitted  across  her  face. 

"  I  know  who  is  eavesdropping  on  us  at  this 
moment,"— she  said  so  loudly  that  her  every  word 
re-echoed  plainly  in  the  corridor — "  Madame  Si- 
pyagin  is  listening  to  us  .  .  .  but  I  care  nothing 
for  that." 

The  rustle  of  footsteps  ceased. 

"  So  what  now?  "—Marianna  turned  to  Nezh- 
danofF;  "  what  am  I  to  do?  how  can  I  help  you? 
Speak  ....  speak  quickly!  What  am  I  to 
do?" 

"  What?  "-said  NezhdanoiF.-"  I  do  not  yet 
know  myself.  ...  I  have  received  a  note  from 
MarkelofF.  .  ." 

"When?    When?" 

"  This  evening.  I  must  go  to-morrow  with 
him  to  Solomin,  at  the  works." 

"  Yes  .  .  .  yes.  .  .  .  He  's  a  splendid  man, — 
MarkelofF.     There  's  a  real  friend!" 

171 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  The  same  as  myself?  " 

INIariamia  looked  Nezhdanoff  straight  in  the 
face. 

"  No— not  the  same." 

"How  then?" 

She  suddenly  turned  away. 

"  Akli!  but  is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know 
what  you  have  become  to  me,  and  what  I  feel  at 
this  moment.  .  .  ." 

NezhdanoiF's  heart  suddenly  began  to  beat 
violently,  and  his  gaze  involuntarily  dropped. 
That  young  girl,  who  had  fallen  in  love  with  him, 
— with  him,  a  homeless  wretch, — who  was  trust- 
ing herself  to  him,  who  was  ready  to  follow  him, 
to  advance  with  him  to  one  and  the  same  goal, — 
that  splendid  girl — Marianna — at  that  moment 
became  for  Nezhdanoff  the  incarnation  of  every- 
thing good,  everything  upright  on  the  earth — the 
incarnation  of  family,  love,  the  love  of  sister,  of 
wife,  which  he  had  never  known, — the  incarna- 
tion of  his  native  land,  of  happiness,  of  struggle, 
of  freedom ! 

He  raised  his  head— and  beheld  her  eyes  again 
directed  upon  him.  .  .  . 

Oh,  how  their  bright,  glorious  gaze  penetrated 
into  the  very  depths  of  his  soul! 

"  So,"— he  began  in  an  uncertain  voice, — "  I 
set  out  to-morrow.  .  .  .  And  when  I  come  back, 
I  will  tell  ....  you  .  .  ."  (he  suddenly  found 
it  embarrassing  to  call  Marianna  "  you  ")  — "  I 

172 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

will  tell  you  what  I  have  learned,  what  has  been 
decided  upon.  Henceforth,  everything  that  I 
shall  do,  everything  that  I  shall  think — every- 
thing, everything,  shall  first  be  known  to  ...  . 
thee." 

"Oh,  my  friend!  "—exclaimed  Marianna— 
and  again  she  grasped  his  hand.  "  I  make  thee 
the  same  promise! " 

That  "  thee "  she  uttered  as  easily  and  as 
simply  as  though  it  were  not  possible  to  do 
otherwise — as  though  it  were  a  comradely, 
"  thou." 

"  And  may  I  see  the  letter?  " 

"  Here  it  is,  here." 

]\Iarianna  glanced  over  the  letter,  and  raised 
her  eyes  to  him,  almost  with  reverence. 

"  Do  they  impose  such  weighty  commissions  on 
thee?" 

He  smiled  at  her  by  way  of  reply,  and  thrust 
the  letter  into  his  pocket. 

"It  is  strange," — he  said: — "here  we  have 
made  a  confession  of  love  to  each  other — we  love 
each  other— and  there  has  not  been  a  word  of  that 
between  us." 

"Why  should  there  be?" — whispered  Mari- 
anna, and  suddenly  flung  herself  on  his  neck,  and 
pressed  her  head  to  his  shoulder.  .  .  .  But  they 
did  not  even  kiss  each  other— that  would  have 
been  commonplace  and  awkward,  for  some  reason 
or  other— at  least,  that  was  the  way  they  both 

173 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

felt  about  it — and  they  immediately  parted,  with 
a  mutual  warm  pressure  of  the  hand. 

Marianna  returned  for  the  candle,  which  she 
had  left  on  the  window-sill  of  the  empty  room — 
and  only  then  did  something  in  the  nature  of  sur- 
prise overwhelm  her.  She  extinguished  the  light, 
and,  in  profound  darkness,  swiftly  slipped  along 
the  corridor,  returned  to  her  chamber,  undressed, 
and  lay  down  in  that  darkness  which  was  so  de- 
lightful to  her,  for  some  reason  or  other. 


•J  74 


XVI 

On  the  following  morning,  when  NezhdanofF 
awoke,  he  not  only  did  not  feel  any  confusion  at 
the  recollection  of  what  had  taken  place  on  the 
preceding  day, — but,  on  the  contrary,  he  was 
filled  with  a  certain  good  and  sober  joy,  as  though 
he  had  done  something  which,  in  reality,  he  ought 
to  have  done  long  ago.  Asking  leave  of  absence 
for  a  couple  of  days  from  Mr.  Sipyagin,  who 
gave  immediate,  but  stern  consent  to  his  absence 
— NezhdanofF  went  off  to  Markeloff.  Before 
his  departure,  he  contrived  to  see  Marianna. — 
She,  also,  was  not  in  the  least  ashamed,  wore  a 
calm  and  decided  look,  and  coolly  called  him  thou. 
She  was  disturbed  merely  over  what  he  would 
hear  from  Markeloff,  and  begged  him  to  tell  her 
everything. 

"  That  is  a  matter  of  course," — replied  Nezh- 
danoff. 

"  And,  in  fact," — he  said  to  himself, — "  what 
occasion  is  there  for  us  to  worry?  In  our  friend- 
ship personal  feeling  has  played  a  secondary 
part — yet  we  have  become  irrevocably  bound  to- 
gether. In  the  name  of  the  cause?  Yes,  in  the 
name  of  the  cause!  " 

175 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Thus  thought  NezhdanoiF,— and  he  himself 
did  not  suspect  how  much  of  truth— and  of  un- 
trutli— there  was  in  his  thoughts. 

He  found  MarkeloiF  in  the  same  languid  and 
morose  frame  of  mind.  When  they  had  dined, 
after  a  fashion,  on  something  or  other,  they  set 
out  in  the  tarantas  with  which  we  are  already  ac- 
quainted— (MarkelofF's  horse  was  still  lame,  and 
they  had  hired  a  second  side  horse,  which  was  very 
young,  and  had  never  yet  worked  in  harness,  from 
a  peasant)  — to  the  big  cotton-spinning  factory 
of  merchant  FalyeefF,  where  Solomin  lived. 
NezhdanofF's  curiosity  was  excited;  he  was  very 
anxious  to  make  closer  acquaintance  with  the  man, 
concerning  whom  he  had  heard  so  much  of  late. 
Solomin  had  been  forewarned;  as  soon  as  the 
two  travellers  drew  up  at  the  gate  of  the  factory, 
and  mentioned  their  names,  they  were  immedi- 
ately conducted  to  the  plain  little  wing  occupied 
by  the  "  mechanician-superintendent."  He  him- 
self was  in  the  main  building  of  the  factory ;  while 
one  of  the  factory -hands  ran  to  fetch  him,  Nezh- 
danofF  and  MarkelofF  had  time  to  step  to  the 
window  and  look  about  them.  The  factory  was, 
obviously,  in  a  most  thriving  condition,  and  over- 
whelmed with  work;  thence  emanated  a  brisk 
hum  and  roar  of  incessant  activity:  the  machin- 
ery panted  and  pounded,  the  wheels  whirred,  the 
straps  slapped,  wheelbarrows,  casks,  laden  carts 
rolled  past  and  vanished  from  sight;  shouts  of 

176 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

command,  the  clangour  of  bells  and  whistles 
rang  out;  workmen,  in  belted  blouses,  their  long 
hair  confined  with  a  strap,  working-girls,  in  print 
gowns,  ran  hurriedly  past ;  horses  in  harness  were 
moving  about.  Human  force,  a  thousand  men 
strong,  roared  round  about  as  taut  as  a  string. 
Everything  was  proceeding  in  an  orderly,  rational 
manner,  in  full  swing ;  not  only  was  there  no  ele- 
gance or  punctuality  observable,  there  was  not 
even  cleanliness  anywhere  or  in  anything;  on  the 
contrary — in  every  direction  one  was  struck  with 
the  negligence,  dirt,  soot;  here  a  window-pane 
was  broken,  there  the  plaster  had  peeled  off, 
boards  were  missing,  a  gate  yawned  wide-open; 
a  huge,  black  pool,  with  an  iridescent  scum  of 
putrid  matter  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  main 
courtyard;  further  on,  heaps  of  discarded  bricks 
reared  themselves  aloft ;  fragments  of  linden-bast 
sacking,  of  raw-hide  wrappers,  packing-cases, 
ropes,  were  lying  about ;  shaggy  dogs  were  roam- 
ing around  with  hollow  bellies,  and  not  even  bark- 
ing; in  one  corner,  under  the  fence,  sat  a  little 
boy,  four  years  of  age,  with  a  huge  belly,  and  dis- 
hevelled head,  all  smeared  with  soot, — there  he 
sat  and  wept  desperately,  as  though  abandoned 
by  the  whole  world ;  alongside  him,  smeared  with 
the  same  soot,  a  sow,  surrounded  by  her  piebald 
litter,  was  devouring  cabbage-stalks;  ragged 
underclothing  was  dangling  on  a  line  which  had 
been  stretched— and  what  stench,  what  a  fetid 

177 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

atmosphere  there  was  everywhere!— A  Russian 
factory— in  short;  not  a  German  or  a  French 
manufactory. 

NezhdanofF  cast  a  glance  at  MarkelofF. 

"  I  have  been  told  so  much  about  Solomin's 
superior  capacities," — he  began, — "  that,  I  must 
confess,  this  disorder  surprises  me ;  I  had  not  ex- 
pected it." 

"  There  's  no  disorder  here," — replied  Marke- 
lofF, gruffly, — "  but  only  Russian  slovenliness. 
Nevertheless,  the  business  earns  millions!  And 
he  has  to  adapt  himself  to  old  customs, — and  to 
business, — and  to  the  owner  himself.  Have  you 
any  idea  what  FalyeefF  is  like?  " 

"  None  whatever." 

"  He  's  the  worst  skinflint  in  Moscow.  In  one 
word — a  miserly  curmudgeon." 

At  that  moment  Solomin  entered  the  room. 
NezhdanoiF  was  obliged  to  undergo  a  disenchant- 
ment, just  as  he  had  with  regard  to  the  factory. 
At  first  sight,  Solomin  produced  the  impression 
of  being  a  Finn,  or,  rather,  a  Swede.  He  was 
lofty  of  stature,  tow-headed,  thin,  broad-shoul- 
dered; he  had  a  long,  yellow  face,  a  short,  broad 
nose,  very  small  greenish  eyes,  a  calm  gaze,  thick 
lips  which  curled  upward ;  white  teeth,  also  large, 
and  a  cleft  chin  barely  overgrown  with  down.  He 
was  dressed  like  a  workman,  a  stoker ;  on  his  body 
he  wore  an  old  pea-jacket  with  pendent  pockets, 
on  his  head  an  oil-cloth  crushed  cap,  on  his  neck 

178 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

a  woollen  scarf,  on  his  feet  tarred  boots.  He  was 
accompanied  by  a  man  of  forty,  in  a  plain,  long, 
peasant  coat,  with  remarkably  mobile,  gipsy  face 
and  piercing,  coal-black  eyes,  with  which,  as  soon 
as  he  entered,  he  took  a  comprehensive  survey  of 
Nezhdanoff .  .  .  .  He  already  knew  Markeloff . 
His  name  was  Pavel:  he  was  regarded  as  Solo- 
min's  factotum. 

Solomin  approached  his  two  visitors  in  a  lei- 
surely manner,  pressed  the  hand  of  each  of  them 
with  his  calloused,  bony  hand,  took  out  of  the  ta- 
ble-drawer a  sealed  packet,  and  handed  it,  still  in 
silence,  to  Pavel,  who  immediately  left  the  room. 
Then  he  stretched  and  yawned;  flinging  his  cap 
off  the  nape  of  his  neck  to  a  distance,  with  one 
sweep  of  his  hand,  he  seated  himself  on  a  small 
painted  wooden  chair,  and  motioning  Markeloff 
and  ISTezhdanofF  to  a  divan  of  the  same  sort,  he 
said: — "  Pray,  be  seated!  " 

MarkeloiF  first  introduced  Solomin  and  Nezh- 
danoff ;  Solomin  immediately  gave  the  latter  his 
hand  again. — Then  Markeloff  began  to  talk  of 
"  the  cause,"  mentioned  Vasity  Nikolaevitch's  let- 
ter. Nezhdanoff  gave  the  letter  to  Solomin. 
While  he  read  it,  attentively  and  without  haste, 
moving  his  eyes  from  line  to  line,  Nezhdanoff 
looked  at  him.  Solomin  was  sitting  near  the  win- 
dow; the  sun,  which  was  already  low  in  the  sky, 
brilliantly  illuminated  his  tanned,  slightly  per- 
spiring face,  his  blond,  dusty  hair,  kindling  in 

179 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

it  a  multitude  of  golden  points.  His  nostrils 
quivered  and  became  inflated  as  he  read,  and  his 
lips  moved  as  though  he  were  articulating  every 
word ;  he  held  the  letter  tightly  and  high  up,  with 
both  hands.  All  this  pleased  NezhdanofF,— God 
knows  why.  Solomin  returned  the  letter  to  Nezh- 
danofF, smiled  at  him,  and  again  began  to  listen 
to  Markeloff.  The  latter  talked  and  talked— 
and  at  last  relapsed  into  silence. 

*'  Do  you  know  what,"— began  Solomin,  and 
his  voice,  which  was  rather  hoarse,  but  young  and 
strong,  also  pleased  Nezhdanoff,— "  I  do  not  feel 
quite  at  my  ease  here;  let  us  go  to  j^our  house— 
it  is  only  seven  versts  away.  You  came  in  a  ta- 
rantas,  I  suppose? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well  ....  there  will  be  room  for  me.  In  an 
hour  my  labours  are  over,  and  I  shall  be  free. 
Then  we  will  discuss.  You  are  also  free?  "—he 
asked,  turning  to  NezhdanofF. 

"  Until  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Very  good,  indeed.  We  will  spend  the  night 
with  him.— May  we,  Sergyei  Mikhailovitch? " 

"  What  a  question!    Of  course  you  may." 

"  Well— I  '11  be  ready  directly.  Only  give  me 
a  chance  to  clean  myself  up  a  bit." 

"  And  how  are  things  going  in  your  factory?  " 
—inquired  MarkelofF,  significantly.  Solomin 
glanced  aside. 

"  We  will  talk  that  over,"— he  said  again.— 

180 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Wait  ....  I  '11  be  ready  directly  .  .  I  have 
forgotten  something." 

He  left  the  room.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the 
good  impression  which  he  had  produced  on  Nezh- 
danoff ,  the  latter,  probably  would  have  thought, 
and  even,  perhaps,  would  have  asked  INIarkelofF: 
"  Is  n't  he  crawling  out  of  it?  "  But  nothing  of 
that  sort  entered  his  head. 

An  hour  later,  at  the  moment  when,  from  all 
the  stories  of  the  huge  building,  the  noisy  throng 
of  work-people  were  descending  by  all  the  stair- 
cases and  pouring  out  through  all  the  doors, — 
the  tarantas  in  which  sat  JMarkelofF,  NezhdanofF, 
and  Solomin  drove  out  through  the  gate  upon  the 
highway. 

"  Vasily  Feodotitch!  Are  we  to  act?  "— 
shouted  after  Solomin,  Pavel,  whom  he  had  es- 
corted to  the  gate. 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  .  .  .  rephed  Solomin.-"  That 
refers  to  a  piece  of  night-work," — he  explained  to 
his  comrades. 

They  arrived  at  Borzyonkovo;  they  supped — 
chiefly  for  the  sake  of  appearances — and  then  lit 
their  cigars  and  began  their  discussions,  those  noc- 
turnal, interminable,  Russian  discussions,  which 
in  such  proportions  and  in  such  a  form  can  hardly 
be  characteristic  of  any  other  race  whatsoever. 
Moreover,  even  here,  Solomin  did  not  justify 
NezhdanofF's  expectations.  He  talked  remark- 
ably little  ...  so  little,  that  one  might  almost 

181 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

say  that  he  remained  persistently  mute;  but  he 
listened  assiduously,  and  if  he  did  utter  any 
judgment  or  remark,  it  was  to  the  point,  and  of 
weight,  and  very  brief.  It  appeared  that  Solo- 
min  did  not  believe  in  the  imminent  approach  of 
a  revolution  in  Russia ;  but,  not  wishing  to  force 
his  opinions  on  others,  he  did  not  prevent  their 
making  the  effort,  and  he  looked  on,  not  from 
afar,  but  from  one  side.  He  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  Petersburg  revolutionists — and,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  sympathised  with  them— for  he  him- 
self was  one  of  the  people ;  but  he  understood  the 
involuntary  absence  of  that  same  people,  without 
which  "  you  will  not  be  able  to  do  anything," 
and  which  must  undergo  a  long  course  of  prep- 
aration,—and  not  of  the  same  sort  or  with  the 
same  object  as  those.  Hence,  he  held  himself 
aloof,  not  as  a  crafty  man  or  a  shuffler,  but  as  a 
young  fellow  with  sense,  who  does  not  wish  to  ruin 
himself  or  others  for  nothing.— But  as  for  listen- 
ing—why not  listen— and  even  learn,  if  the  op- 
portunity should  present  itself?  Solomin  was 
the  only  son  of  a  chanter;  he  had  five  sisters— all 
married  to  priests  and  deacons;  but  he,  with  the 
consent  of  his  father,  a  dignified  and  sober  man, 
had  abandoned  the  ecclesiastical  seminary,  had 
begun  to  study  mathematics,  and  had  conceived 
a  special  passion  for  mechanics ;  he  had  got  a  place 
in  the  factory  of  an  Englishman,  who  had  loved 
him  like  a  son— and  had  furnished  him  with  means 

182 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

to  go  to  Manchester,  where  he  had  remained  two 
years,  and  had  learned  the  EngHsh  language. 
He  had  entered  the  factory  of  the  INIoscow  mer- 
chant quite  recently,  and  although  he  was  strict 
with  the  factory-hands,— because  he  had  learned 
that  method  by  observation  in  England,— yet  he 
enjoyed  their  good-will;  "he  was  one  of  them- 
selves, you  see !  "  His  father  was  greatly  pleased 
with  him,  called  him  "  accurate,"  and  his  sole  re- 
gret was  that  his  son  was  not  inclined  to  marry. 

In  the  course  of  the  nocturnal  discussion  at 
MarkeloiF's,  Solomin,  as  we  have  already  said, 
maintained  an  almost  uninterrupted  silence;  but 
when  Markeloff  undertook  to  expatiate  upon  the 
hopes  which  he  founded  on  the  factor}^  workmen, 
Solomin,  according  to  his  wont,  laconically  re- 
marked that  "  our  factory -hands  in  Russia  are  not 
like  those  abroad— they  are  the  quietest  sort  of 
folks." 

"  And  the  peasants?  "—asked  Markeloff. 

Solomin  smiled. 

"  Seek  and  ye  shall  find." 

He  smiled  almost  incessantly— and  his  smile, 
also,  was  a  guileless  sort  of  smile,  but  thought- 
less, like  everything  else  about  him.— He  treated 
NezhdanofF  in  a  peculiar  manner :  the  j^oung  stu- 
dent aroused  sympathy,  almost  tenderness  in  him. 

In  the  course  of  that  same  nocturnal  conversa- 
tion, Nezhdanoff  suddenly  waxed  warm,  and  be- 
came excited;  Solomin  quietly  rose  to  his  feet, 

183 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

and  traversing  the  whole  length  of  the  room  with 
his  long  stride,  shut  the  small  window  which  stood 
open  obove  NezhdanofF's  head.  .  .  . 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  will  take  cold  in  your  head," 
—he  said  good-naturedly,  in  reply  to  the  orator's 
astonished  look. 

NezhdanofF  began  to  interrogate  him  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  socialistic  ideas  M^hich  he  was  en- 
deavouring to  introduce  into  the  factory  intrusted 
to  him,  and  as  to  whether  he  intended  to  arrange 
matters  in  such  a  way  that  the  workmen  should 
share  in  the  profits? 

"My  dear  soul!" — replied  Solomin— "we 
have  set  up  a  school,  and  a  small  hospital — and  the 
proprietor  fought  against  them  like  a  bear!  " 

Once  only  Solomin  got  seriously  angry,  and 
thumped  his  mighty  fist  on  the  table  in  such  wise, 
that  everything  on  it  danced,  not  excluding  the 
forty-pound  weight,  which  sought  refuge  near 
the  inkstand.  They  had  told  him  about  some 
piece  of  injustice  in  the  law-courts,  about  the 
oppression  of  a  workman's  guild.  .  .  . 

But  when  MarkelofF  and  Nezhdanoff  under- 
took to  say,  how  it  was  proper  to  "  set  to  work," 
how  their  plan  was  to  be  put  into  action,  Solo- 
min continued  to  listen  with  curiosity,  even  with 
respect— but  he  himself  did  not  utter  a  single 
word.  This  conversation  of  theirs  lasted  until 
four  o'clock.— And  what  all  did  they  not  discuss! 
Markeloff ,  among  other  things,  secretly  hinted  at 

184 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

that  indefatigable  traveller,  KislyakofF,  at  his  let- 
ters, which  were  becoming  more  and  more  in- 
teresting ;  he  promised  to  show  several  of  them  to 
NezhdanofF,  and  even  to  give  him  some  to  take 
home  with  him,  as  they  were  very  long,  and  writ- 
ten in  a  not  very  legible  hand;  and,  in  addition, 
they  contained  a  great  deal  of  learning,  and  there 
were  even  verses  here  and  there— but  not  any  friv- 
olous verses — and  with  a  socialistic  tendency.— 
From  Kislyakoff  Markeloff  passed  on  to  soldiers, 
to  adjutants,  to  Germans— and,  at  last,  talked 
until  he  reached  the  artillery  articles;  Nezhda- 
nofF referred  to  the  antagonism  which  existed  be- 
tween Heine  and  Prudhomme,  to  realism  in  art; 
and  Solomin  listened— listened,  observed,  smoked, 
— and  without  ever  ceasing  to  smile,  without  ut- 
tering a  single  witty  word,  he  seemed  to  com- 
prehend better  than  any  of  them,  in  what  the 
whole  gist  of  the  matter  consisted. 

The  clock  struck  four.  .  .  Nezhdanoff  and 
Markeloff  could  hardly  stand  on  their  feet  with 
weariness — but  Solomin  never  showed  a  trace 
of  fatigue!— The  friends  parted;  but  before  they 
did  so  it  was  unanimously  agreed  that  on  the 
following  day  they  should  go  to  the  town,  to  the 
Old  Ritualist  merchant  Golushkin  to  make  propa- 
ganda; Goliishkin  himself  was  very  zealous — and 
had  promised  proselytes!  Solomin  ventured  to 
express  a  doubt:  was  it  worth  while  to  visit 
Golushkin?    But  afterward  he  agreed  that  it  was. 

185 


XVII 

Markeloff's  guests  were  still  asleep  when  a  mes- 
senger presented  himself  to  him,  with  a  letter 
from  his  sister,  Madame  Sipyagin.  — In  that  let- 
ter Valentina  Mikhailovna  spoke  to  him  about 
some  domestic  trifles,  asked  him  to  send  her  a 
book  which  he  had  taken  away — and,  by  the  way, 
in  a  postscript,  she  imparted  to  him  an  "  amus- 
ing "  bit  of  news:  his  former  flame,  Marianna, 
had  fallen  in  love  with  the  tutor  Nezhdanofl*— 
and  the  tutor  with  her ;  and  she,  Valentina  Mikhai- 
lovna was  not  repeating  gossip,— but  had  beheld 
it  with  her  own  eyes,  and  had  heard  it  with  her 
own  ears.  Markeloff's  face  grew  blacker  than 
night  ....  but  he  uttered  not  a  word; — he  or- 
dered that  the  book  be  given  to  the  messenger, — 
and,  catching  sight  of  Nezhdanofl*,  who  was  de- 
scending the  stairs  from  the  upper  story,  he 
greeted  him  in  the  usual  manner — he  even  gave 
him  the  packet  of  Kislyak6fl"s  epistles,  which  he 
had  promised; — but  he  did  not  remain  with  him, 
and  went  ofl"  "  to  see  to  affairs  about  the  place." 
—  Nezhdanoff  returned  to  his  room  and  ran 
through  the  letters  which  had  been  given  to  him: 
in  them  the  young  propagandist  talked  continu- 

186 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

ally  of  himself,  of  his  convulsive  activity ;  accord- 
ing to  his  statements,  in  the  course  of  the  last 
month  he  had  raced  across  eleven  districts,  had 
been  in  nine  towns,  twenty-two  villages,  fifty- 
three  hamlets,  one  farm,  and  eight  factories ;  six- 
teen nights  he  had  spent  in  hay-mows,  one  night 
in  a  stable,  one,  even,  in  a  cow-stall  (here  he  re- 
marked in  parenthesis,  with  a  nota  bene,  that  the 
fleas  had  not  bothered  him )  ;  he  had  made  his  way 
into  the  earth-huts,  the  barracks  of  the  working- 
men,  everywhere  he  had  taught,  exhorted,  distrib- 
uted little  books,  collected  information  on  the  fly ; 
some  persons  he  had  jotted  down  on  the  spot, 
others  he  had  impressed  on  his  memory,  according 
to  the  latest  system  of  mnemonics;  he  had  writ- 
ten  fourteen  long  letters,  twenty-eight  short  ones, 
and  eighteen  notes,  four  of  them  in  pencil,  one  in 
blood,  one  in  soot  diluted  wdth  water ;  and  all  this 
he  had  succeeded  in  doing  because  he  had  learned 
how  to  portion  out  his  time  systematically,  taking 
as  his  guides  Quintin  Johnson,  Sverlitzky,  Ka- 
relins, and  other  journalists  and  article-writers. 
— Then  he  talked  some  more  about  himself,  about 
his  star,  about  precisely  how  and  in  what  par- 
ticulars he  had  supplemented  Fourier's  theory 
of  the  passions;  he  asserted  that  he  had  been  the 
first  to  seek  out  "  the  soil,"  definitively,  that  "  he 
would  not  pass  through  the  world  without  leaving 
a  trace  behind  him," — that  he  himself  was  amazed 
that  he,  a  youth  of  two-and-twenty,  had  already 

187 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

solved  all  the  problems  of  life  and  science— and 
that  he  would  turn  Russia  upside  down,  he  would 
even  "  give  it  a  shaking-up!  "— Dixi!!— he  added 
at  the  end  of  the  line.— This  word—"  dixi  "  .  . 
frequently  recurred  in  Kislyakoif's  letters,  and 
always  with  two  exclamation  points.  One  of  the 
letters  contained  a  socialistic  poem,  addressed  to 
a  young  girl,  and  beginning : 

Love  not  me — but  the  idea! 

NezhdanoiF  was  inwardly  amazed,  not  so  much 
by  Mr.  Kislyakoif's  self-boastf ulness,  as  at  Mar- 
kelofF's  honest  good-nature  ....  but  he  imme- 
diately reflected:  "  away  with  aesthetics!  even  Mr. 
Kislyakoif  may  prove  useful!" — All  three 
friends  met  in  the  dining-room  at  tea;  but  the 
wordy  discussion  of  the  preceding  evening  was 
not  renewed  between  them.— None  of  them  felt 
inclined  to  talk — but  Solomin  alone  maintained  a 
composed  silence;  while  NezhdanoiF  and  Marke- 
loiF  seemed  to  be  inwardly  perturbed. 

After  tea  they  set  out  for  the  town;  Marke- 
loif 's  old  servant,  as  he  sat  on  the  porch,  accom- 
panied his  former  master  with  his  customary  de- 
jected gaze. 

Merchant  Golushkin, — whose  acquaintance 
NezhdanoiF  was  about  to  make, — was  the  son  of 
a  tradesman,  who  had  acquired  wealth  in  the  hard- 
ware business,  a  member  of  the  Feodosian  sect, 

188 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

of  the  Old  Ritualists/    He  himself  had  not  aug- 
mented his  father's  property,  for  he  was,  as  has 
been  stated,  a  gay  blade,  an  epicurean,  after  the 
Russian  manner— and  possessed  no  gift  whatever 
of  combination  in  business  matters.     He  was  a 
man  of  forty  years  of  age,  decidedly  obese  and 
homely,  pock-marked,  with  small,  pig  eyes;  he 
talked  very  fast,  and  got  tangled  up,  as  it  were, 
in  his  words,  flourished  his  hands,  danced  about  on 
his  legs,  burst  out  laughing  ....  in  general, 
produced  the  impression  of  a  dull-witted,  spoiled, 
and  extremely  conceited  fellow.     He  regarded, 
himself  as  a  cultured  man,  because  he  dressed  in 
foreign    fashion    and    lived    in    a    free-handed, 
though   slovenly  manner,   was   acquainted   with 
wealthy  people,— and  went  to  the  theatre,  and 
protected  variety  actresses,  with  whom  he  con- 
versed in  a  remarkable  sort  of  language  which  pro- 
fessed to  be  French.  A  thirst  for  popularity  was 
his  chief  passion;  as  much  as  to  say:—"  Let  thy 
fame  resound  throughout  the  world,  Goliishkin!  " 
—  This   same   passion,   having  won   the   victory 
over  his  innate  stinginess,  had  flung  him,  as  he 
expressed  it,  not  without  pride,  into  the  opposi- 
tion (formerly,  he  had  said  simply:  "into  posi- 
tion,"—but  he  had  been  taught  better  afterward) , 
—had  brought  him  into  relations  with  the  nihi- 
lists: he  proclaimed  the  most  extreme  opinions, 

^  For  a  good  description  of  this  and  tiie  other  Old  Ritualist 
sects,  see  "  L'Empire  des  Tsars  et  les  Russes,"  by  Anatole  Leroy- 
Beaulieu.  — Translator. 

189 


to 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

he  jeered  at  his  Old  Ritualistic  sect,  ate  prohib- 
ited food  during  fasts,  played  cards— and  drank 
champagne  like  water.  And  he  was  continually 
getting  out  of  scrapes:— because,  as  he  said— 
I  have  bought  the  authorities  in  every  direction 
where  it  is  necessary;  every  opening  has  been 
stopped  up,  all  mouths  are  closed,  all  ears 
plugged."— He  was  a  widower,  and  childless;  his 
sister's  sons  hovered  around  him  with  servile  trepi- 
dation .  .  .  but  he  cursed  them  for  a  pack  of 
uncivilised  blockheads  and  barbarians,  and  hardly 
permitted  them  to  come  within  his  sight.— He 
lived  in  a  large  stone  house,  which  was  kept  up 
in  rather  an  untidy  manner ;  in  some  of  the  rooms 
there  was  foreign  furniture— and  in  others,  there 
was  nothing  but  painted  chairs,  and  a  sofa  cov- 
ered with  oil-cloth.  Pictures  hung  everywhere— 
and  all  of  them  were  exceedingly  bad:  carroty- 
hued  landscapes,  and  purple  sea  views — Moller's 
"  The  Kiss,"  fat,  naked  women  with  red  knees 
or  elbows.  Although  Golushkin  had  no  family, 
a  great  many  menials  and  parasites  roosted  under 
his  roof ;  he  did  not  harbour  them  out  of  generos- 
ity, but  for  the  same  old  reason,— a  desire  for 
popularity,— and  in  order  that  he  might  have 
some  one  whom  he  could  order  about,  and  before 
whom  he  could  put  on  airs.  "  My  clients,"  he 
was  wont  to  say,  when  he  wanted  to  throw  dust 
in  any  one's  eyes;  he  read  no  books,  but  he  had 
a  capital  memory  for  learned  expressions. 

190 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

The  young  men  found  Golushkin  in  his  study. 
Clad  in  a  long-tailed  paletot,  with  a  cigar  in 
his  mouth,  he  was  pretending  to  read  a  news- 
paper. At  the  sight  of  them  he  instantly  sprang 
to  his  feet,  fussed  about,  turned  scarlet,  shouted 
out  that  the  servants  were  to  serve  luncheon  im- 
mediately, put  some  question  or  other,  laughed 
at  something — and  all  simultaneously.  He  knew 
MarkelofF  and  Solomin;  NezhdanofF  was  an  en- 
tirely new  person  to  him.  On  hearing  that  he  was 
a  student,  he  shook  hands  with  him  again  and  said : 

"  Splendid!  splendid!  some  of  our  own  set  have 
arrived  ....  learning  is  light,  ignorance  is 
darkness— my  own  education  leaves  much  to  be 
desired,  but  I  understand,  because  I  've  been  suc- 
cessful! " 

It  struck  NezhdanofF  that  Mr.  Golushkin  was 
both  timid  and  easily  discomfited, . .  and,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  he  was  exactly  that. — "  Look  out,  bro- 
ther Kapiton,  keep  up  thy  dignity!  "  was  his  first 
thought  at  the  sight  of  every  new  face.  But  he 
speedily  recovered  himself,  and  began  to  talk  in 
the  same  hurried,  thick-tongued  way  about  Va- 
sily  Nikolaevitch,  about  his  character,  about  the 
necessity  for  the  pro-pa-gan-da—  (he  was  very 
familiar  with  this  word,  but  he  pronounced  it 
slowly)  ;  he  said  that  he,  Golushkin,  had  discov- 
ered a  new,  dashing  young  man,  a  very  trust- 
worthy fellow ;  that  apparently  the  time  was  now 
near  at  hand,  the  time  was  ripe  for  ....  for 

191 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

the  lancet  (at  this,  he  glanced  at  JNIarkeloff,  who, 
however,  never  fluttered  an  eyelash)  ; — then,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  Nezhdanoff,  he  began  to  por- 
tray himself  in  a  style  quite  equal  to  that  of  Kis- 
lyakofl*,  the  great  correspondent,  himself.  He, 
said  he,  had  long  ago  got  out  of  the  category  of 
self-fools,^  that  he  knew  well  the  rights  of  the 
proletariat  (he  had  memorised  this  word  thor- 
oughly), that,  although  he  himself  had  retired 
from  business  and  was  engaged  in  banking  opera- 
tions— for  the  purpose  of  augmenting  his  capital 
— yet  thiswas  only  in  order  that  this  capital  might, 
at  a  given  moment,  serve — to  the  profit  ...  to 
the  profit  of  the  general  movement,  to  the  profit 
—so  to  speak— of  the  populace;  and  that  he,  Go- 
liishkin,  in  reality,  despised  capital!  At  this 
point,  a  servant  entered  with  the  appetiser,  and 
Goldshkin  clearing  his  throat  significantly,  in- 
quired whether  they  would  not  like  to  join  him 
in  a  glass? — and  was  himself  the  first  to  toss  off 
an  overpowering  bumper  of  pepper-brandy. 

The  guests  began  on  the  luncheon.  —  Goliishkin 
thrust  huge  pieces  of  pressed  caviar  into  his 
mouth,  and  drank  to  match,  remarking: — "  Pray, 
gentlemen,  take  some,  I  entreat  you,  '  't  is  a  tid- 
bit'!" 

1  Ostrdvsky,  the  famous  dramatic  writer,  invented  this  word — 
samodur,  self-fool — in  his  well-known  comedy,  "  Don't  Bother  about 
Other  People's  Troubles"  (literally,  "Getting  Drunk  at  Another 
Man's  Feast").  It  instantly  became  the  popular  term  to  describe 
a  pig-headed,  conservative,  old-fashioned  man.  — Translator. 

192 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Addressing  himself  once  more  to  NezhdanoiF, 
he  asked  him  whence  he  had  come,  whether  he  in- 
tended to  remain  long,  and  where  he  was  residing ; 
and  having  learned  that  he  was  living  at  Sipya- 
gin's  house,  he  exclaimed : 

"  I  know  that  gentleman !  An  empty  fellow !  " 
— And  thereupon  began  to  revile  all  landed  pro- 
prietors of  the  S.  .  .  .  Government,  because  they 
not  only  had  nothing  of  the  citizen  about  them, 
but  also  because  thej^  were  not  even  conscious  of 
their  own  interests.  .  .  .  Only — strange  to  saj^! 
.  .  while  he  was  thus  abusing  them, — his  eyes 
kept  roving  about,  and  uneasiness  was  visible  in 
them. — Nezhdanoif  could  not  quite  render  him- 
self an  account  as  to  what  manner  of  man  this 
was — and  why  he  should  be  necessary  to  them. 
Solomin  held  his  tongue,  according  to  his  wont; 
and  Markeloff  assumed  such  a  gloomy  mien,  that 
NezhdanofF  at  last  asked  him  "  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  him?  " — To  which  ]Markeloff  replied  that 
there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  him ;  but  in  the 
sort  of  tone  in  which  it  is  customarj^  to  answer 
people  when  the  object  is  to  give  them  to  under- 
stand that  "  there  is  something  the  matter — only 
it  is  none  of  your  business." — Again  Golushkin 
began,  first  to  abuse  somebody,  and  then  to  laud 
the  young  generation :  "  what  clever  fellows  have 
come  up  nowadays!  Cle-e-ver  fellows!  Phew!" 
—  Solomin  interrupted  him  with  the  query:  who 
was  that  reliable  young  man  whom  he  had  men- 

193 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

tioned?— and  where  had  he  hunted  him  up?  Go- 
lushkin  burst  out  into  a  hearty  laugh,  repeated  a 
couple  of  times;  "  Well  now,  you  '11  see,  you  '11 
see,"— and  began  to  interrogate  him  about  his 
factory,  and  its  "  rascally  "  owner,  to  which  Solo- 
min  replied  in  extremely  monosyllabic  style. 
Then  Goliishkin  poured  out  champagne  for  all 
of  them— and  bending  down  to  NezhdanofF's 
ear,  he  whispered:— "  To  the  republic!  "—and 
drained  his  glass  at  a  draught.  Nezhdanoff  took 
a  sip  from  his  glass.  Solomin  remarked  that  he 
did  not  drink  wine  in  the  morning;  MarkelofF 
drained  his  glass  to  the  dregs,  with  a  vicious  and 
determined  air.  It  seemed  as  though  he  were  be- 
ing devoured  by  impatience :  "  here  we  are,  still 
taking  our  ease,"  he  seemed  to  say, — "  and  we  are 
not  getting  at  the  real  discussion  at  all."  .... 
He  thumped  the  table,  said  morosely:—"  Gentle- 
men!"— and  was  preparing  to  speak.  .  .  . 

But  at  that  moment  there  entered  the  room  a 
smoothly-licked  man,  with  a  jug-like  phiz,  and  a 
consumptive  aspect,  dressed  in  a  short  nankeen 
kaftan  of  the  merchant  fashion,  with  both  arms 
dangling  straight  down.  Having  made  his  bow 
to  all  present  this  man  reported  something  to 
Goliishkin  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Immediately,  immediately,"— replied  the  lat- 
ter hurriedly.  —  "  Gentlemen,"  he  added,—"  I 
must  ask  you  to  excuse  me.  .  .  .  Vasya  here,  my 
manager,  has  just  informed  me  of  a  '  thingum- 

194 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

bob '  of  such  a  nature  "  ( Golushkin  expressed 
himself  in  this  manner  by  way  of  a  joke),  "  that 
I  am  imperatively  obliged  to  absent  myself  for  a 
time;  but  I  hope,  gentlemen,  that  you  will  con- 
sent to  dine  with  me  to-day  at  three  o'clock ;  and 
then  we  shall  be  much  more  at  liberty! " 

Neither  Solomin  nor  NezhdanofF  knew  what 
reply  to  make;  but  Markeloff  immediately  said, 
with  the  same  surliness  of  visage  and  voice  as 
before : 

"  Of  course  we  will;  but  what  sort  of  a  comedy 
is  this?" 

"  I  thank  you  sincerely,'* — Golushkin  caught 
him  up — and,  bending  toward  MarkeloiF,  he 
added: — "I  '11  contribute  a  thousand  rubles,  at 
least,  to  the  cause  .  .  .  have  no  doubt  as  to  that!  " 

And  thereupon  he  thrice  made  a  gesture  with 
his  right  hand,  with  the  thumb  and  little  finger 
outspread,  signifying:  "  I  '11  keep  my  word!  " 

He  escorted  his  guests  to  the  door,— and  stand- 
ing on  the  threshold  he  shouted: 

"  I  shall  expect  you  at  three  o'clock! " 

"  You  may!  "—replied  MarkeloiF  alone. 

"  Gentlemen!  "—said  Solomin  as  soon  as  all 
three  found  themselves  in  the  street,—"  I  am 
going  to  hire  a  drozhky  and  drive  to  the  factory. 
What  shall  we  do  until  dinner-time? — idle  about? 
And  as  for  that  merchant  of  ours  ....  it  strikes 
me  that  we  shall  get  neither  wool  nor  milk  out  of 
him,  any  more  than  out  of  a  goat." 

195 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Well,  there  will  be  some  wool," — remarked 
Markeloff,  gruffly.  "  Here  he  has  promised 
money.  Do  you  despise  him?  We  cannot  enter 
into  details. — We  are  not  fastidious  girls  of  mar- 
riageable age." 

"As  if  I  despised  him!"  calmly  responded 
Solomin.  "  I  am  only  asking  myself  of  what 
use  my  own  presence  can  be?  However,"  he 
added,  glancing  at  NezhdanofF  with  a  smile: — 
"  as  you  like;  I  will  remain.  Misery  loves  com- 
pany." 

Markeloff  raised  his  head. 

"  Let  us  go,  for  the  time  being,  to  the  public 
park;  the  weather  is  fine." 

"  Come  on." 

They  set  out.— Markeloff  and  Solomin  in 
front,  NezhdanofF  behind  them. 


196 


XVIII 

His  soul  was  in  a  strange  state.  There  had  been 
so  many  new  sensations,  so  many  new  faces  dur- 
ing the  last  two  days.  .  .  .  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  had  become  intimately  acquainted  with 
a  young  girl,  with  whom — in  all  probability — he 
had  fallen  in  love.  He  had  been  present— in  all 
probability — at  the  inception  of  the  cause,  to 
which  he  had  consecrated  all  his  powers.  .  .  And 
what  then?  .  .  .  Was  he  happy?— No.— Was  he 
wavering?  growing  cowardly?  disconcerted? — 
Oh,  of  course  not.  Then,  was  he  experiencing, 
at  least,  that  tension  of  the  whole  being,  that  im- 
petuous longing  to  advance  into  the  front  ranks 
of  the  warriors  which  the  imminent  approach  of  a 
battle  calls  forth?— No,  again.  "Did  he,  then, 
after  all,  believe  in  that  cause?— Oh,  accursed  aes- 
thetic! Sceptic!"  whispered  his  lips  dumbly. — 
Why  this  languor,  this  disinclination  even  to 
speak  as  soon  as  he  was  not  yelling  and  raging? 
—  What  inward  voice  was  he  endeavouring  to 
stifle  by  that  yell?  But  Marianna,  that  glorious, 
trusting  comrade,  that  pure,  passionate  soul,  that 
magnificent  young  girl— did  not  she  love  him? 
Was  it  not  a  great  piece  of  luck  that  he  should 

197 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

have  met  her,  that  he  should  have  won  her  friend- 
ship, her  love?  And  those  two  beings,  who  were 
now  walking  in  front  of  him,  that  MarkelofF,  that 
Solomin,  whom  he  still  knew  so  little,  but  toward 
whom  he  felt  so  greatly  attracted,— were  not  they 
capital  specimens  of  Russian  existence,  of  Rus- 
sian life, — and  was  not  acquaintance,  intimacy 
with  them  a  piece  of  good  luck  also? — Then  why 
that  ill-defined,  perturbed,  aching  sensation? 
Why  that  sadness? — "  If  thou  art  a  reflective  and 
melancholy  man," — whispered  his  lips  again, — 
*'  why  the  devil  art  thou  a  revolutionist?  Write 
verses,  languish,  and  wrestle  with  thine  own  petty 
thoughts  and  sensations — and  burrow  into  various 
psychological  considerations  and  subtleties, — but, 
the  chief  thing  of  all  is, — do  not  take  thy  sickly, 
nervous  irritation  and  whims  for  the  manly  indig- 
nation, for  the  honourable  wrath  of  the  man  of 
convictions!— Oh,  Hamlet,  Hamlet,  Prince  of 
Denmark,  how  am  I  to  emerge  from  thy  shadow? 
How  am  I  to  leave  off  imitating  thee  in  every- 
thing, even  in  the  disgraceful  enjoyment  of  my 
own  self-castigation? " 

"Alexis !  Friend !  the  Russian  Hamlet !  "—sud- 
denly rang  out  a  familiar,  piping  voice,  as  though 
in  echo  to  all  these  reflections.—"  Is  it  thee  I  be- 
hold? " 

Nezhdanofl*  raised  his  eyes — and  with  amaze- 
ment, saw  before  him  Pakhlin! — Pakhlin  in  the 
image  of  a  shepherd,  clothed  in  a  flesh-coloured 

198 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

garment,  with  no  neckcloth  round  his  neck,  in  a 
large  straw  hat,  encircled  by  a  blue  ribbon,  and 
thrust  clear  back  on  the  nape  of  his  neck — and  in 
lacquered  shoes! 

He  immediately  limped  up  to  NezhdanofF  and 
grasped  his  hand. 

"  In  the  first  place,"— he  began,—"  although 
we  are  in  the  public  park,  we  must  embrace  .  .  . 
and  kiss  each  other,  according  to  our  old  habit.  .  . 
One!  two!  three!— In  the  second  place,  thou 
knowest  that  if  I  had  not  met  thee  to-day  thou 
wouldst  certainly  have  beheld  my  countenance  to- 
morrow,—for  thy  place  of  residence  is  known  to 
me,  and  I  even  came  to  this  town  with  the  express 
intention  ...  in  some  manner  or  other, — but  of 
that  later ;  in  the  third  place,  introduce  me  to  thy 
comrades.  Tell  me,  briefly,  who  they  are,  and 
tell  them  who  I  am,  and  we  will  enjoy  life! " 

Nezhdanoff  complied  with  his  friend's  desire, 
named  him  to  MarkelofF  and  Solomin— and  told 
about  each  one  of  them— who  he  was,  where  he 
lived,  what  he  did,  and  so  forth. 

"  Very  good  indeed!  "—exclaimed  Paklilin;— 
"  and  now,  permit  me  to  lead  you  all  far  from  the 
crowd  which  does  not,  however,  exist— to  the  iso- 
lated bench,  seated  whereon  I,  in  hours  of  medi- 
tation, enjoy  nature.— There  is  a  wonderfully 
fine  view  from  it:  the  Governor's  house,  two 
striped  sentry-boxes,  three  gendarmes,  and  not  a 
single  dog!— But  you  must  not  be  too  greatly 

199 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

surprised  at  my  speeches,  wherewith  I  so  sedu- 
lously endeavour  to  make  you  laugh! — In  the 
opinion  of  my  friends,  I  am  the  representative  of 
Russian  wit  .  ,  .  hence,  probably,  my  limp." 

Pakhlin  led  the  friends  to  the  "  isolated  bench," 
and  seated  them  on  it,  first  having  driven  away 
from  it  two  beggar-women.  The  young  men 
"  exchanged  ideas,"  ...  a  decidedly  tiresome  oc- 
cupation in  the  majority  of  cases — especially  in 
the  early  stages  of  acquaintance— and  remark- 
ably sterile  of  results. 

*'  Halt!  "—suddenly  exclaimed  Pakhlin,  turn- 
ing to  Nezhdanoff, — "  I  must  explain  to  thee 
why  I  am  here.  Thou  knowest  I  take  my  sister 
away  somewhere  every  year ;  when  I  learned  that 
thou  wert  setting  out  for  the  neighbourhood  of 
this  town,  I  called  to  mind  that  in  this  very 
town  dwell  two  of  the  most  remarkable  persons: 
a  man  and  wife  who  are  relatives  of  ours  .  .  . 
on  the  mother's  side.  My  father  was  a  burgher  " 
—  (Nezhdanoff  knew  that,  but  Pakhlin  said  it 
for  the  benefit  of  those  two)  — "  and  she  was  of 
noble  birth.  And  they  have  been  inviting  us  to 
make  them  a  visit  for  this  long  time  past!— 
Stay!  I  say  to  myself.  .  .  That  just  suits  me. 
They  are  the  kindest  sort  of  people,  my  sister  will 
be  advantageously  situated  with  them ;  what  more 
could  be  desired? — so  we  just  came  hither.  And 
it  was  exactly  the  right  thing !  So  we  are  well  off 
here.  .  .  I  cannot  tell  you  how  well  off!- But 

200 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

what  people  they  are!  What  people!— You  cer- 
tainly must  make  their  acquaintance!  What  are 
you  doing  here?  Where  are  you  going  to  dine? 
And  why,  precisely,  did  you  come  here?" 

"  We  are  to  dine  to-day  at  the  house  of  a  cer- 
tain Goliishkin.  .  There  is  a  merchant  here  of 
that  name,"  replied  Nezhdanoff . 

"  At  what  o'clock  ?  " 

"  At  three." 

"  And  you  are  to  see  him  about  .  .  .  about 
.  .  .  ."  Pakhlin  cast  a  scrutinising  glance  at  Solo- 
min,  who  smiled,  and  at  Markeloff,  whose  brow 
grew  more  and  more  lowering. 

"Come,  Alyosha;  tell  them,  .  .  .  make  some 
free-mason  sign,  I  mean  it  .  .  .  tell  them  that 
they  need  not  stand  on  ceremony  with  me.  .  .  . 
For  I  am  one  of  you  ...  of  your  society.  .   .  ." 

"  Goliishkin  is  one  of  us  also," — remarked 
Nezhdanoff. 

"  Well,  that 's  splendid!— There  's  lots  of  time 
yet  before  three  o'clock.  —  Sec  here — let's  go  to 
my  relations'." 

"  Why,  you  are  out  of  your  mind !  How  can 
one  be  so  .  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that!  I  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility myself.  — Imagine:  it  's  an  oasis! 
Neither  politics,  nor  literature,  nor  anything  con- 
temporary ever  gets  a  peep  in  there.  .  The  lit- 
tle house  is  a  pot-bellied  sort  of  affair,  such  as  is 
nowhere   to   be   seen   nowadays   anywhere;   the 

201 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

smell  in  it  is— antique;  the  people  are  antiques; 
the  air  is  antique  .  .  .  whatever  you  touch  is  an- 
tique. Katherine  the  Second,  powder,  farthin- 
gales, the  eighteenth  century! — The  master  and 
mistress  of  the  house,  ....  just  fancy:  both 
man  and  wife  are  old,  very  old,  of  the  same  age, 
— and  devoid  of  wrinkles;  round,  plump,  clean, 
regular  little  love-bird  parakeets ;  but  good  to  stu- 
pidity, to  holiness,  without  limit!  I  am  told  that 
*  unlimited  '  goodness  is  often  accompanied  by 
the  absence  of  moral  sentiment.  .  .  But  I  do  not 
enter  into  such  subtleties,  and  I  only  know  that 
my  little  old  folks  are  good,  kind  souls!  And 
they  never  had  any  children.  They  are  called  the 
'  blessed,'  ^  in  town.  They  both  dress  exactly 
alike,  in  a  sort  of  long,  hooded  garment  of  striped 
stuff —and  the  stuff  is  of  such  solid  quality,  you 
cannot  find  any  such  anywhere  nowadays. — They 
are  frightfully  like  each  other — only  one  of 
them  wears  a  cap  on  her  head  and  the  other  has 
a  night-cap  on  his— with  exactly  the  same  sort 
of  ruches  as  are  on  the  cap,  but  without  any  rib- 
bon. If  it  were  not  for  the  ribbon,  you  would 
not  know  them  apart;  and  the  husband  is  beard- 
less, to  boot.  And  their  names  are:  one, — F6- 
mushka,  and  the  other  Fimushka.  — I  tell  you,  one 
ought  to  pay  money  to  have  a  look  at  them.  They 
love  each  other  to  an  impossible  degree:  and  if 
any  one  calls  on  them,  it  is—'  Pray  come  in! ' — 

^In  the  sense  of  half-witted.— Translator. 

202 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

And  obliging  people :  they  will  show  off  all  their 
little  tricks  at  once.  There  is  only  one  point: 
smoking  is  not  allowed  in  their  house :  not  because 
they  are  sectarians,^ — but  because  tobacco  dis- 
gusts them.  .  .  .  And  in  their  day,  who  smoked? 
— On  the  other  hand,  they  keep  no  canary-birds — 
because  that  bird  was  also  not  widely  dissemi- 
nated at  that  epoch.  .  .  .  And  that  is  a  great  piece 
of  good-luck — you  will  agree! — Well,  how  is  it 
to  be?    Will  you  go?" 

"  Really,  I  do  not  know," — began  NezhdanofF. 

"  Stay:  I  have  not  yet  told  j^ou  all.  —  Their 
voices  are  exactly  alike :  if  you  shut  your  eyes  you 
do  not  know  which  one  of  them  is  talking.  Only 
Fomushka's  speech  is  somewhat  the  more  tender 
of  the  two, — Here  j^ou  are  gentlemen,  making 
preparations  for  the  great  cause, — perhaps  for 
a  terrible  struggle.  .  .  Why,  before  j^ou  hurl 
yourself  into  those  raging  waters  .  .  .  don't  you 
take  a  dip  into  .  .  .  ." 

"  Into  stagnant  water?  "—interrupted  Marke- 
loiF. 

"Well,  what  of  that? — It  is  stagnant,  that  's 
a  fact;  only  it  is  not  putrid. — There  are  pools 
on  the  steppes  of  that  sort ;  although  they  have  no 
outlet  they  never  become  covered  with  scum  be- 
cause they  have  springs  at  the  bottom. — And  my 

^  The  raskolniki — sectarians,  who  cling  to  the  unrevised  versions 
of  the  scriptures  and  church  service-books  (also  called  "Old  Rit- 
ualists ")— object  to  tobacco,  tea,  and  coffee  on  religious  grounds, 
which  they  justify  by  quaint  arguments.— TkanslatoJI 

203 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

old  folks  have  springs — there,  at  the  bottom  of 
their  hearts,  pure,  exceedingly  pure  springs. — 
And  there  's  another  thing:  would  you  like  to 
know  how  people  lived  a  hundred,  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago?— then  make  haste  and  follow  me. 
For  the  day,  the  hour,  will  come — it  will,  inevit- 
ably, be  one  and  the  same  hour  for  both  of  them— 
and  my  love-birds  will  tumble  off  their  perch — 
and  everything  antique  will  come  to  an  end  with 
them — and  the  pot-bellied  little  house  will  disap- 
pear— and  in  its  place  there  will  spring  up  what, 
according  to  the  assertion  of  my  grandmother, 
always  does  spring  up  on  the  spot  where  there 
have  been  '  humans,'  namely,  nettles,  burdock, 
sowthistles,  wormwood,  and  horse-dock ;  the  street 
itself  will  cease  to  exist,  and  men  will  come,  and 
nothing  of  that  sort  will  ever  be  found  again,  unto 
ages  of  ages! "  .  .  .  . 

"Well,  why  not?"— cried  NezhdanofF:— 
"  really,  we  might  as  well  go!  " 

"  I  am  ready,  with  the  greatest  pleasure," — said 
Solomin; — "  that  's  not  in  my  line — but  it  is  cu- 
rious, all  the  same;— and  if  Mr.  Pakhlin  really 
can  guarantee  that  we  shall  not  discommode  any 
one  by  our  visit,  then  .  .  .  why  not.  .  .  ." 

"  Come,  you  need  have  no  doubts!" — exclaimed 
Pakhlin  in  his  turn: — "they  will  go  into  rap- 
tures over  you— and  that  's  all.  What  's  the  use 
of  standing  on  ceremony.     I  tell  you,  they  are 

204 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

blessed  eccentrics,  we  will  make  them  sing. — And 
you,  Mr.  MarkelofF — do  you  accept?  " 

MarkeloiF  wrathf  ully  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  cannot  remain  here  alone! — Please  show  us 
the  way." — The  young  men  rose  from  the  bench. 

"  What  an  awe-inspiring  gentleman  thou  hast 
with  thee," — whispered  Pakhlin  to  NezhdanoiF, 
pointing  at  MarkelofF: — "  Precisely  like  John  the 
Forerunner,  when  he  had  eaten  the  locusts  .  .  . 
the  locusts  alone,  without  any  honej^!— But  that 
one," — he  added,  nodding  his  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Solomin,— "  is  a  splendid  fellow!  What 
a  glorious  smile  he  has!— I  have  noticed  that  only 
those  people  who  are  above  the  rest  smile  in  that 
way — and  are  not  aware  of  it  themselves." 

"Are  there  any  such  people?"  asked  Nezh- 
danoff. 

"  They  are  rare;  but  they  do  exist,"— replied 
Pakhlin. 


205 


XIX 

FoMusHKA  and  Fimushka— Foma  Lavrentie- 
vitch  and  Evfemia  Pavlovna  SubotcheiF— both 
belonged  to  one  and  the  same  ancient  Russian  no- 
ble stock — and  were  regarded  as  almost  the  oldest 
residents  of  the  town  of  S. . . . — They  had  married 
very  early  in  life — and  a  great  many  years  ago 
had  settled  down  in  an  ancestral  wooden  house  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  town — had  never  left  it — and 
never,  in  any  respect  whatever,  had  changed  their 
mode  of  life  or  their  habits.  Time,  apparently, 
had  stood  still,  so  far  as  they  were  concerned ;  no 
"  novelty  "  ever  made  its  way  across  the  threshold 
of  their  "  oasis."  Their  property  was  not  large; 
but  their  peasants,  as  of  yore,  still  continued  to 
bring  them  domestic  fowls  and  provisions  several 
times  a  year ;  the  village  elder,  at  appointed  dates, 
presented  himself  with  the  quit-rent  money,  and 
a  pair  of  hazel-hens,  which  were  supposed  to  have 
been  shot  at  the  forest  villa  of  his  master  and  mis- 
tress, which,  in  reality,  had  long  ago  disappeared ; 
he  was  treated  to  tea  on  the  threshold  of  the  draw- 
ing-room, he  was  presented  with  a  sheepskin  cap, 
a  pair  of  green  chamois  mittens,  and  dismissed  in 
God's  keeping.    The  SubotchefF's  house  was  full 

206 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

of  house-serfs.  The  aged  servant,  KalHopitch, 
clad  in  an  under- jacket  of  unusually  thick  cloth, 
with  a  standing  collar,  and  tiny  steel  buttons,  an- 
nounced, as  of  yore,  in  a  drawl,  "  the  food  is  on 
the  table,"  and  fell  into  a  doze  as  he  stood  behind 
his  mistress'  chair.  The  pantry  was  in  his  charge ; 
— he  reigned  over  "  divers  dried  fruits,  cardamon- 
seeds,  and  lemons," — and  to  the  question:  had  he 
heard  that  liberty  had  been  proclaimed  for  all  the 
serfs?— he  always  replied  that  some  people  chat- 
tered lots  of  nonsense;  there  is  liberty  among 
the  Turks, — but,  thank  God,  it  had  skipped  him. 
The  maid  Pufka,  a  dwarf,  was  kept  for  amuse- 
ment, but  the  old  nurse,  Vasilievna,  entered  dur- 
ing dinner,  with  a  huge,  dark-coloured  kerchief 
on  her  head — and  narrated  all  sorts  of  news  in  a 
mumbling  voice: — about  Napoleon,  the  year  '12, 
about  Antichrist  and  white  negroes; — or,  with 
her  chin  propped  on  her  hand,  as  though  in  afflic- 
tion, she  communicated  to  them  what  sort  of  a 
dream  she  had  had,  and  what  it  signified,  and 
what  fortune  the  cards  had  shown  her.  The  Su- 
botchefF's  house  itself  was  distinguished  from 
all  the  other  houses  in  the  town :  it  was  built  wholly 
of  oak,  and  had  windows  in  the  form  of  equal- 
sided  squares;  the  double  sashes  were  never  re- 
moved. And  it  contained  all  sorts  of  outer  vesti- 
bules, old-fashioned  rooms  with  old-fashioned 
names: — and  hot  chambers,  and  light  chambers 
at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  one-roomed,  semi- 

207 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

cottages  in  the  back  yard,  and  porches  with  balus- 
trades, and  pigeon-houses  on  carved  pillars,  and 
all  sorts  of  rear  entrances  and  tiny  rooms.  In 
front  there  was  a  small  garden,  and  at  the  back 
a  garden;  and  in  the  garden, — what  coops,  de- 
tached sheds,  barns,  cold-storehouses,  ice-houses 
...  a  regular  nest!  Not  that  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  property  preserved  in  all  these  buildings 
— some  of  them  had  already  fallen  into  decay; — 
but  all  that  had  been  constructed  in  ancient  times, 
— well,  and  so  it  had  remained.  The  SubotcheiFs 
had  only  two  horses,  aged,  saddle-backed,  shaggy 
animals;  on  one  of  them  even,  white  spots  had 
come  out,  owing  to  age;  its  name  was  Nedviga, 
the  Motionless.  They  were  harnessed— at  most 
once  a  month — to  a  remarkable  equipage  with 
which  the  whole  town  was  familiar,  presenting 
the  semblance  of  the  earthly  globe  with  a  quarter 
part  cut  out  in  front,  and  upholstered  in  the  in- 
side with  a  foreign  material,  yellow  in  hue,  thickly 
strewn  with  large  blisters  in  the  shape  of  warts. 
The  last  yard  of  that  material  had  been  woven  in 
Utrecht  or  Lyons  in  the  days  of  the  Empress 
Elizabeth !  And  the  Subotcheff  s'  coachman,  also, 
was  a  very  aged  old  man  permeated  with  the 
odour  of  train-oil  and  tar ;  his  beard  started  close 
up  to  his  eyes,  and  his  eyebrows  fell  in  small 
cascades  on  his  beard.  He  was  so  deliberate  in 
his  movements  that  he  took  five  whole  minutes 
over  a  pinch  of  snufF,  two  minutes  to  tuck  his 

208 


VIRGIN  SOIE 

whip  into  his  girdle,  and  more  than  two  hours  to 
harness  Nedviga  alone.  His  name  was  Perf  ishka. 
If  the  SubotchefFs  happened  to  go  out  for  a  drive 
and  the  equipage  was  obliged  to  make  the  slight- 
est ascent — they  invariably  got  frightened —  (but 
they  were  frightened,  also,  when  they  went  down 
hill)  — they  clung  to  the  carriage-straps,  and  both 
kept  repeating  aloud:  "  Horses!  horses  .  .  .  have 
the  strength  of  Samuel: — but  we — but  we  are 
lighter  than  down,  lighter  than  a  spirit !!  "  .  .  .  . 
Every  one  in  the  town  of  S.  .  .  .  regarded  the  Su- 
botchefFs as  eccentrics,  almost  in  the  light  of  crazy 
people: — and  they  themselves  admitted  that  they 
were  not  adapted  to  the  order  of  things  at  the 
present  day  ....  but  they  did  not  grieve  much 
over  that : — in  that  manner  of  existence  into  which 
they  had  been  born,  in  which  they  had  grown  up, 
and  entered  the  married  state — in  that  manner  of 
life  they  remained.  One  peculiaritj^  alone  of  that 
life  had  not  adhered  to  them:  they  never  since 
they  were  born  had  punished  any  one,  or  had 
called  any  one  to  account  for  anything.  If  one 
of  their  servants  turned  out  to  be  a  notorious 
drunkard  or  thief,  they  first  exercised  patience 
and  bore  with  him  for  a  long  time,  as  other  peo- 
ple endure  bad  weather;  and  at  last  they  endeav- 
oured to  get  rid  of  him,  to  let  him  go  to  another 
master  and  mistress:  as  much  as  to  say, — let  them 
worry  over  it  for  a  while  also!  But  this  misfor- 
tune rarely  occurred  to  them, — so  rarely  that  it 

209 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

constituted  an  epoch  in  their  lives, — and  they  were 
wont  to  say,  for  example:  "  That  happened  long 
ago;  it  came  to  pass  when  that  impudent  Alda- 
shka  lived  with  us  ";  or  "  when  grandfather's  fur 

cap  with  the  fox-tail  was  stolen  from  us " 

The  Subotcheffs  still  used  that  sort  of  cap. — But 
another  distinguishing  characteristic  of  ancient 
customs  was  not  to  be  observed  in  them:  neither 
Fomushka  nor  Fimushka  were  over-religious  peo- 
ple. Fomushka  even  held  to  Voltairian  rules ;  and 
Fimushka  was  deathly  afraid  of  ecclesiastical  per- 
sons :  they  had  the  gift  of  the  evil  eye,  according 
to  her.  "  The  priest  will  sit  a  while  with  me," — 
she  was  wont  to  say, — "  and,  lo  and  behold!  the 
cream  has  turned  sour!  " — They  rarely  went  out 
to  church — and  they  fasted  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
style,  that  is  to  say,  they  used  eggs,  butter,  and 
milk.  This  was  known  in  the  town — and,  of 
course,  it  did  not  redeem  their  reputation.  But 
their  goodness  conquered  everything;  and  al' 
though  people  made  fun  of  the  queer  Subo- 
tcheffs, although  they  regarded  them  as  idiots 
and  blessed  fools,  nevertheless,  in  reality,  they 
respected  them. 

Yes;  they  respected  them  ....  but  as  for 
going  to  see  them,  no  one  did  that.  But  neither 
did  they  feel  aggrieved  thereby.  They  were  never 
bored  when  they  were  together — and  therefore 
they  never  parted,  and  desired  no  other  society. 
Neither  Fomushka  nor  Fimushka  had  ever  been 

210 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

ill  a  single  time ;  but  if  one  or  the  other  of  them 
felt  slightly  indisposed — then  both  of  them  drank 
an  infusion  of  linden  flowers,  rubbed  their  loins 
with  warm  oil— or  dropped  hot  tallow  on  the  soles 
of  their  feet— and  in  a  short  time  everything 
passed  off. — They  always  spent  their  days  in  the 
same  way.  They  rose  late,  took  chocolate  in  the 
morning  out  of  small  cups,  in  the  shape  of  mor- 
tars; "  tea,"— they  asserted, — "  came  into  fashion 
after  our  day  ";— they  sat  facing  each  other,  and 
either  chatted — (and  they  always  found  some- 
thing to  talk  about!)  —or  read  from  "  An  Agree- 
able Way  to  Pass  the  Time,"  "  The  Mirror  of 
Light,"  or  "  The  Aonid  " ;  or  they  looked  through 
an  old  album,  bound  in  red  morocco  with  a  gilded 
edge,  which  had  once  been  the  property,  so  the 
inscription  ran,  of  one  Mme.  Barbe  de  Kabyline. 
— When  and  how  that  album  had  fallen  into  their 
hands — they  themselves  did  not  know.  It  con- 
tained several  French  and  many  Russian  poems 
and  articles  in  prose,  in  the  nature,  for  example, 
of  the  following  "  brief  "  reflections  concerning 
"  Cecero." 

In  what  frame  of  mind  Cecero  entered  upon  the  rank 
of  quaestor,  the  following  will  set  forth.  Having  called 
on  the  gods  to  bear  witness  to  the  purity  of  his  senti- 
ments in  all  the  offices  wherewith  he  had  hitherto  been 
honoured,  he  considered  himself  bound  by  the  most 
sacred  bonds  to  a  worthy  fulfilment  of  them,  and  in 
that  intention  he,   Cecero,  not  only  had   not   addicted 

211 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

himself  to  any  pleasures, — but  had  even  shunned  such 
enjoyments  as  appear  to  be  utterly  indispensable. 

— Below  this  stood: 

Written  in  Siberia,  in  hunger  and  cold. 

There  was  also  a  good  poem,  entitled 
"  Thyrsos,"  wherein  such  strophes  as  the  follow- 
ing occurred: 

Repose  the  universe  directs. 
The  dew  with  pleasure  glistens, 
Caresses  nature  and  refreshes. 
Imparts  to  her  new  life ! 

Thyrsos  alone,  with  sorrowing  soul 
Suffers,  torments  himself,  and  grieves.  .  .  . 
When  with  him  dear  Aneta  is  not — 
Nothing  can  him  cheer ! 

—and  an  impromptu  by  a  passing  captain,  in  the 
year  1790,  "  The  Sixth  Day  of  May  ": 

Ne'er  shall  I  forget ! 

Thee,  village  beloved! 

And  I  shall  ever  bear  in  mind ! 

How  pleasantly  the  time  did  pass ! 

The  honour  that  I  had ! 

With  thine  owner  fair ! 

The  five  best  days  of  life ! 

To  spend  in  the  most  respected  circle ! 

Amid  a  multitude  of  ladies  and  young  girls. 

And  other  awteresting  persons ! 

212 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

On  the  last  page  of  the  album  stood— instead  of 
verses— recipes  for  maladies  of  the  stomach,  for 
spasms— and,  alas!— even  for  tape-worms.  The 
SubotchefFs  dined  punctually  at  twelve  o'clock, 
and  always  ate  old-fashioned  viands:  curd-frit- 
ters, sour  soup  with  salted  gherkins,  freely-salted 
cabbage,  patties  filled  with  salted  cucumbers, 
hasty-pudding,  rolls  made  with  eggs,  pudding  of 
potato  flour  flavoured  with  fruit  juice,  compotes 
of  dried  fruits  and  berries,  sweetened  with  raisins 
or  honey,  fowl  roasted  on  a  spit  with  saffron, 
custard  with  honey.  After  dinner  they  reposed, — 
a  brief  hour,  no  more, — waked  up,  again  sat  down 
facing  each  other,  and  drank  bilberry  ale,  and 
sometimes  even  an  effervescent  sort, called  "forty 
minds,"  which,  however,  almost  every  time 
spurted  out  of  the  bottle  and  caused  great  laugh- 
ter to  the  old  couple,  but  much  vexation  to  Kallio- 
pitch;  he  had  to  wipe  up  "  everywhere  " — and  he 
grumbled  for  a  long  time,  at  the  housekeeper  and 
the  cook,  who  had  invented  that  beverage,  accord- 
ing to  his  assertions.  ..."  And  what  satisfac- 
tion is  there  in  it?  It  only  spoils  the  purniture! " 
—  Then  the  Subotcheffs  read  something  again, 
or  joked  with  the  dwarf  Pufka,  or  sang  together 
antiquated  romances  (their  voices  were  exactly 
alike,  high-pitched,  weak,  rather  quavering,  and 
hoarse — especially  after  a  nap — but  not  devoid 
of  agreeability)  —or,  in  conclusion,  they  played 
cards,  but  always  old-fashioned  games:  krebSj  la 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

moiiclie,  or  even  boston  samprandcr!  Then  the 
samovar  made  its  appearance ;  in  the  evening  they 
drank  tea.  .  .  .  They  made  this  concession  to  the 
spirit  of  the  age ;  but  every  time  they  regarded  it 
as  self-indulgence,  and  thought  that  the  nation 
was  growing  distinctly  less  robust  "  from  that 
Chinese  weed."— In  general,  however,  they  re- 
frained from  censuring  the  new  epoch,  and  from 
lauding  the  old  one:  they  had  never  lived  other- 
wise in  their  lives,  but  that  other  people  might 
live  in  a  different — and  even  a  better  manner — 
they  were  willing  to  concede,  if  only  they  were  not 
compelled  to  make  any  changes! — At  eight  o'clock 
Kalliopitch  served  supper,  consisting  of  the  in- 
evitable cold  hash  with  kvas,  and  at  nine  o'clock 
the  striped,  high-swelling  feather-beds  received 
into  their  mellow  embrace  the  plump  bodies  of 
Fomushka  and  Fimushka,  and  untroubled  sleep 
descended  without  delay  upon  their  eyelids. — 
And  everything  grew  silent  in  the  ancient  house: 
the  shrine-lamp  twinkled  in  front  of  the  holy  pic- 
tures, and  an  odour  of  musk  and  balm  was  spread 
abroad,  a  cricket  whirred — and  the  good,  ridicu- 
lous, innocent  couple  slept  on. 

It  was  to  these  simpletons,  or,  as  he  expressed 
it,  to  these  love-birds,  who  were  entertaining  his 
sister,  that  Pakhlin  conducted  his  acquaintances. 
His  sister  was  a  clever  girl,  not  devoid  of  comeli- 
ness. She  had  wonderful  eyes;  but  her  unfortu- 
nate hump  crushed  her,  deprived  her  of  all  confi- 

214 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

dence  in  herself  and  cheerfulness,  rendered  her 
distrustful,  and  almost  malicious.  And  it  was 
her  luck  to  have  a  very  curious  name:  Snanduliya! 
— Pakhlin  had  wanted  to  change  it  to  Sophya; 
but  she  clung  obstinately  to  her  strange  name, 
saying  that  a  hunchback  ought  to  be  called  pre- 
cisely that — Snandiiliya.  She  was  a  good  musi- 
cian, and  played  very  respectably  on  the  piano — 
"  thanks  to  my  long  fingers," — she  was  accus- 
tomed to  remark,  not  without  bitterness :  "  hunch- 
backed people  always  have  that  sort  of  fingers." 

The  visitors  found  Fomushka  and  Fimushka 
at  the  very  moment  when  they  had  waked  up  from 
their  post-prandial  nap,  and  were  sipping  their 
fruit  ale. 

"  We  are  entering  the  eighteenth  century!  " — 
exclaimed  Pakhlin,  as  soon  as  they  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  SubotchefFs'  house. 

And,  in  truth,  the  eighteenth  century  greeted 
the  visitors  in  the  very  anteroom,  in  the  shape  of 
low,  bluish  screens  with  black  silhouettes  of  pow- 
dered dames  and  cavaliers,  which  had  been  cut 
out  and  pasted  on  them.  At  one  fortunate  period, 
in  the  '80s  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  popular 
silhouettes  of  Lavater  were  in  high  fashion  in 
Russia.  The  sudden  appearance  of  such  a  large 
number  of  visitors — four  altogether!— produced 
a  sensation  in  the  rarely-visited  house.  The 
trampling  of  booted  and  bare  feet  became  audi- 
ble, several  feminine  faces  were  thrust  out  for  a 

215 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

moment,  and  then  vanished — some  one  was  thrust 
in  somewhere,  some  one  groaned,  some  one 
snorted,  some  one  whispered  convulsively:  "  The 
devil  take  you!  " 

At  last  Kalliopitch  made  his  appearance  in  his 
rough  under- jacket — and  throwing  open  the  door 
into  the  "  hall,"  announced  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  Sir,  here  comes  Sila  Samsonitch  with  some 
other  gentlemen ! " 

The  host  and  hostess  were  far  less  perturbed 
than  their  domestics.  The  irruption  of  four  adult 
men  into  their  fairly  spacious  drawing-room 
did,  in  sooth,  somewhat  amaze  them; — but  Pa- 
khlin  immediately  reassured  them,  by  introducing 
to  them,  in  turn,  with  divers  quaint  comments, — 
Nezhdanoff,  Solomin,  and  MarkelofF— as  peace- 
able, and  not  "  crown  "  persons. 

Fomushka  and  Fimushka  were  not  especially 
fond  of  crown — that  is  to  say,  of  official  persons. 

Snandiiliya,  who  presented  herself  in  response 
to  her  brother's  summons,  was  much  more  agi- 
tated, and  stood  on  a  good  deal  more  ceremony 
than  the  old  SubotchefFs.  Both  simultaneously— 
and  with  precisely  the  same  expressions — invited 
the  visitors  to  be  seated,  and  inquired  what  re- 
freshments should  be  served  to  them:  tea,  choco- 
late, or  sparkling  fruit  ale  with  preserves  ?  When 
they  had  ascertained  that  their  guests  wished  for 
nothing,  as  they  had  recently  breakfasted  with 
merchant  Golushkin,  they  ceased  to  press  re- 

216 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

fresliments  upon  them,  and  clasping  their  hands 
on  their  laps  in  precisely  similar  manner,  they 
entered  into  conversation. 

At  first  this  dragged  on  rather  languidly,  hut 
soon  became  animated. — Pakhlin  made  the  old 
folks  laugh  excessively  by  Gogol's  familiar  anec- 
dotes about  the  chief  of  police  who  forced  his 
way  into  the  church,  which  was  crammed  full, 
and  about  the  police-chief  looking  like  a  patty; 
they  laughed  until  they  cried.  They  laughed  also 
in  identical  fashion :  very  shrilly,  winding  up  with 
a  cough,  and  with  faces  flushed  and  perspiring 
all  over.  Pakhlin  had  noticed,  in  general,  that 
quotations  from  Gogol  act  very  powerfully  and 
rather  violently  on  persons  like  the  SubotchefFs; 
but,  as  he  was  not  anxious  to  amuse  them,  as 
he  was  to  exhibit  them  to  his  friends,  he  changed 
his  battery,  and  the  old  couple  were  soon  com- 
pletely reassured.  Fomushka  brought  out  and 
exhibited  to  the  visitors  his  favourite  snuff-box  of 
carved  wood,  on  which,  formerly,  thirty-six  hu- 
man figures  could  have  been  counted,  in  various 
attitudes:  they  had  all,  long  since,  been  erased — 
but  Fomushka  saw  them,  saw  them  down  to  that 
very  moment,  and  was  able  to  enumerate  them, 
and  pointed  them  out. — "  Look  " — he  said,  "  here 
is  one  looking  out  of  a  little  window — see,  he  has 

thrust  out  his  head "     But  the  spot  at 

which  his  pudgy  finger,  with  its  raised  nail 
pointed,  was  as  smooth  as  the  rest  of  the  lid  of 

217 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

the  snuff-box.  Then  he  called  the  attention  of 
his  visitors  to  the  picture  which  hung  over  his 
head,  painted  in  oils:  it  depicted  a  huntsman  in 
profile,  galloping  at  full  speed  on  a  light-bay 
horse — also  in  profile — across  a  snow-covered 
plain.  The  huntsman  wore  a  tall  sheepskin  cap 
with  a  sky-blue  top,  a  kazak  kaftan  of  camel's 
hair,  with  a  velvet  border,  girt  with  a  forged,  gilt 
belt ;  a  silk  embroidered  mitten  was  thrust  into  the 
belt;  his  dagger,  in  a  silver  scabbard  with  black 
niello  work  hung  from  it.  In  one  hand,  in  a  very 
dashing  and  masterful  manner,  the  huntsman 
held  a  huge  horn,  adorned  with  red  tassels,  and 
in  the  other,  his  reins  and  kazak  whip;  all  four 
feet  of  the  horse  were  hanging  in  the  air; — and 
on  each  one  of  them  the  painter  had  carefully 
depicted  a  shoe,  even  designating  the  nails. 
"And  observe,"  said  Fomushka,  pointing  with 
the  same  pudgy  finger  at  the  four  semicircular 
spots  brought  out  on  the  white  background  be- 
hind the  horse's  hoofs — "  his  tracks  in  the  snow — 
and  he  has  even  represented  them! " — Why  there 
were  only  four  of  those  tracks — and  why  not  a 
single  one  was  visible  any  further  behind  him — 
Fomushka  did  not  explain. 

"And,  you  know, — that  was  I!"  he  added, 
after  a  brief  pause,  with  a  shamefaced  smile. 

"  What?  "—exclaimed  Nezhdanoff.— '  Were 
you  the  huntsman? " 

"Yes  ....  but  not  for  long.  Once,  when 
riding  at  full  speed,  I  flew  over  the  horse's  head, 

218 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

and  wounded  my  kurpei.  Well,  and  Fimushka 
got  frightened  .  .  and  forbade  me.  I  abandoned 
it  from  that  time  on." 

"  What  was  it  that  you  wounded?  "—inquired 
NezhdanofF. 

"  My  kurpei/' — repeated  Fomushka,  dropping 
his  voice. 

The  guests  exchanged  mute  glances.  No  one 
knew  what  a  kurpei  was, — that  is  to  say,  Marke- 
lofF  knew  that  the  shaggy  tuft  on  the  cap  of  a 
Kazak  or  a  Tcherkessian  was  called  a  kurpei;  but 
assuredly,  Fomushka  could  not  have  wounded 
that!  But  not  one  of  them  could  make  up  his 
mind  to  ask  him,  what,  precisely,  he  meant  by 
the  word  kurpei. 

"  Well,  since  thou  hast  made  thy  boast,"  be- 
gan Fimushka,  suddenly, — "  I  'm  going  to  make 
my  boast,  too! " 

From  a  tiny  ''  honlieur  du  jour  " — that  was 
the  appellation  of  an  ancient  bui*eau,  on  tiny, 
crooked  legs,  with  a  movable  circular  lid  which 
ran  into  the  back  of  the  bureau, — she  drew  forth 
a  miniature  in  water-colours,  in  an  oval,  bronze 
frame,  representing  a  perfectly  naked  child  of 
four  years,  with  a  quiver  on  its  back,  and  a  sky- 
blue  ribbon  across  its  breast,  testing  its  sharp  ar- 
rows with  the  tip  of  its  finger.  The  child  had 
very  curly  hair,  was  slightly  cross-eyed,  and  was 
smiling.  Fimushka  showed  the  water-colour  to 
her  visitors. 

"  That  was  I  .  .  .  ."  she  said. 

219 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"You?" 

"  Yes,  I.  In  my  youth.  A  French  artist,  a 
capital  painter,  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  at  the 
house  of  my  deceased  father.  So  he  painted  me 
as  a  gift  on  my  father's  Name-day.  And  what 
a  nice  Frenchman  he  was !  He  used  to  call  on  us 
after  that,  also. — He  used  to  come  in  and  give 
a  scrape  with  his  foot,  and  then  wriggle  it,  and 
wriggle  it,  and  kiss  your  hand,  and  when  he 
went  away,  he  would  kiss  his  own  fingers, — in- 
deed he  would! — And  he  bowed  right  and  left 
and  behind  and  in  front!  He  was  a  very  nice 
Frenchman ! " 

The  visitors  praised  his  work;  Pakhlin  even 
thought  that  there  still  existed  some  degree  of  re- 
semblance. 

But  at  this  point  Fomushka  began  to  talk 
about  the  French  of  the  present  day,  and  enun- 
ciated the  opinion  that  they  must  have  all  become 
very  malicious! — "Why  so,  Foma  Lavrentie- 
vitch? " — "Why,  good  gracious!  .  .  .  What 
names  they  have  taken  to  using!  " — "  For  exam- 
ple?"— "Why,  here,  for  example:  Nojean-Saint- 
Lorrain! — a  regular  bandit!" — In  this  connec- 
tion, Fomushka  inquired  who  was  now  reigning  in 
Paris? — They  told  him  that  it  was  Napoleon. — 
This  apparently  amazed  him  and  grieved  him. 
— "  You  don't  say  so? .  .  .  Such  an  old  man  .  .  .  ." 
he  began,  and  relapsed  into  silence,  glancing 
about  him  in  confusion.     Fomushka  knew  very 

220 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

little  French,  and  read  Voltaire  in  translation 
(under  the  head  of  his  bed,  in  a  private  coffer, 
he  kept  a  manuscript  copy  of  "  Candide  ")  — but 
he  occasionally  burst  out  into  expressions  such 
as:  "  that,  my  good  sir,  is  a  fausse  parquet!" — 
(in  the  sense  of  "  that  is  suspicious,"  "  not  true  ") 
— at  which  many  people  laughed,  until  one  learned 
Frenchman  explained  that  that  was  the  ancient 
parliamentary  expression  used  in  his  native  land 
prior  to  the  year  1780. 

As  the  conversation  had  turned  on  France  and 
the  French,  Fimushka  brought  herself  to  inquire 
about  a  certain  matter  which  had  been  lingering 
in  her  mind. — At  first  she  thought  of  applying  to 
Markeloff,  but  he  looked  too  sullen;  she  might 
have  asked  Solomin — but  no! — she  said  to  her- 
self,— he  is  a  common  person;  he  is  not  likely  to 
know  French.  So  she  addressed  herself  to  Nezh- 
danofF. 

"  Well,  my  dear  little  father,  I  want  to  find  out 
something  from  you," — she  began; — "you  must 
excuse  me!  For  my  young  relative  here,  Sila 
Samsonitch,  to  wit,  makes  fun  of  me,  an  old 
woman,  and  at  my  feminine  ignorance." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It  is  this.  If  any  one  wanted  to  put  such  a 
question  as  this,  in  the  French  dialect :  '  What 
is  that?  '—ought  he  to  say:  'Kese-kese-kese-lya?'" 

"  Exactly  that." 

"  But  could  he  also  say:  '  kese-kese-lya ? '  " 

221 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  Yes." 


» ?> 


"  And  simply:  '  kese-lya? 

"  He  might  do  that,  also." 

"  And  all  would  amount  to  the  same  thing? " 

"  Yes." 

Fimushka  reflected,  and  threw  apart  her 
hands. 

"  Now,  Silushka," — she  said  at  last, — "  I 
am  in  the  wrong,  and  thou  art  in  the  right. 
Only,  those  French  people!  ....  Poor 
things!  " 

Pakhlin  began  to  entreat  the  old  people  to  sing 
some  little  romance.  .  .  .  They  both  laughed,  and 
were  surprised  that  the  idea  should  have  occurred 
to  him;  but  they  speedily  assented,  but  only  on 
condition  that  Snanduliya  should  sit  down  at  the 
harpsichord  and  accompany  them — she  knew  in 
what.  In  one  corner  there  turned  out  to  be  a  tiny 
piano  which  none  of  the  visitors  had  noticed  at 
first.  Snandiiliya  seated  herself  at  this  "  harpsi- 
chord," struck  a  few  chords.  .  .  .  Such  toothless, 
shrill,  wizened,  decrepit  sounds  NezhdanofF  had 
never  heard  since  he  was  born ;  but  the  old  couple 
immediately  struck  up: 

"  And  was  it  then — that  sadness — " 

began  Fomushka — 

"In  love  should  descend  on  us, 
That  the  gods  have  given  us  hearts 

223 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Which  are  capable  of  love  ?  ^ 

Doth  the  feeling  of  passion  only — " 

responded  Fimushka— 

"Without  calamity,  without  malign  mis- 
fortune 
Exist  anywhere  on  earth  ?  " 

"  Nowhere,  nowhere,  nowhere !  " — 

interpolated  Fomushka ; 

"  Nowhere,  nowhere,  nowhere !  " — 

repeated  Fimushka; 

**  With  it  there  is  cruel  sorrow 
Everywhere,  everywhere,  everywhere!" — 

they  sang  in  unison : 

"  Everywhere,  everywhere,  everywhere!  " — 

Fomushka  ended,  in  long-drawn  tones. 

"  Bravo!  "  shouted  Paklilin:— "  that 's  the  first 
couplet;  and  how  about  the  second?  " 

"Very  well,"— replied  Fomushka: — "only, 
Snanduliya  Samsonovna,  where  is  the  trill?  There 
ought  to  be  a  trill  after  my  verse." 

"Very  well," — replied  Snanduliya; — "you 
shall  have  j^our  trill." 

Fomushka  began  again: 

"  Has  any  one  loved  in  the  universe 
Yet  torment  has  not  felt? 

*The  alternate  lines  rhyme  in  the  original. — Teanslatoh. 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

Wliat  lover,  oh,  what  lover 
Hath  not  wept  and  sighed  ?  " 

And  then  Fimushka: 

"  So  the  heart  is  as  strange  on  the  heights, 
As  the  boat  that  sinks  in  the  sea.  .  . 
Why  was  it  given  to  us  ?  " 

"For  harm,  for  harm,  for  harm!" 

exclaimed  Fomushka— and  waited,  tc  give  Snan- 
duliya  time  to  make  the  trill. 
Snandiiliya  made  it. 

"For  harm,  for  harm,  for  harm!  " 

repeated  Fomushka. 

And  then  both  together: 

"  Take  back  the  heart,  ye  gods, 
Take  back,  take  back,  take  back ! 
Take  back,  take  back,  take  back !  " 

And  everything  again  wound  up  with  a  trill. 

"  Bravo!  bravo!  "—they  all  cried,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  MarkelofF,  and  then  even  clapped 
their  hands. 

"  Now  I  wonder,"— thought  Nezhdanoff ,  as 
soon  as  the  applause  had  ceased,—"  whether  they 
are  conscious  that  they  are  acting  the  part  .  .  . 
of  clowns,  as  it  were?— Perhaps  not:— and  per- 
haps they  are  conscious  of  it,  but  think : '  Where  's 
the  harm  since  we  are  doing  no  one  any  mischief? 
We  are  even  amusing  others.'    And,  when  you 

224 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

come  to  think  it  over  thoroughlj^  they  are  in  the 
right,  a  hundred  times  in  the  right!  " 

Under  the  influence  of  these  thoughts,  he  sud- 
denly began  to  pay  them  compliments,  in  re- 
sponse to  which  they  merely  made  slight  courte- 
sies, without  quitting  their  arm-chairs.  .  .  But, 
at  that  moment,  from  the  adjoining  room,  prob- 
ably a  bed-chamber  or  the  maids'  room,  whence 
whispering  and  rustling  had  long  been  audible, 
the  dwarf  Pufka  suddenly  made  her  appearance, 
accompanied  by  nurse  Vasilievna. — Piifka  began 
to  squeak  and  writhe — and  the  nurse  dissuaded 
her,  and  urged  her  on  worse  than  before,  by 
turns. 

JNIarkelofF,  who  had,  for  a  long  time,  been  ex- 
hibiting signs  of  impatience —  ( Solomin  merely 
smiled  more  broadly  than  usual)  — MarkelojBP 
turned  to  Fomushka,  all  at  once: 

"  I  had  not  expected  it  of  you," — he  began, 
with  his  harsh  manner, — "  that  you,  wdth  your  en- 
lightened mind,— for  you  are,  I  hear  a  disciple  of 
Voltaire, — can  amuse  yourself  with  that  which 
ought  to  constitute  an  object  of  commiseration— 

namely,  with  a  deformed  person "    Here 

he  remembered  Pakhlin's  sister,  and  bit  his 
tongue; — and  Fomushka  turned  scarlet:  "Yes 
....  but  you  see  ...  it  is  n't  I  ..  .  she  likes 
it  herself.  .  ."  But  Pufka  fairly  pounced  upon 
MarkelofF. 

"  And  what  made  thee  take  it  into  thy  head," 

225 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

—she  burst  out  in  her  whirring  voice,—"  to  in- 
sult my  master  and  mistress?  They  have  taken 
care  of  me,  a  wretched  pauper,  they  have  received 
me  into  their  house,  they  give  me  food  and  drink 
— and  thou  enviest  me!  So  it  makes  thee  cross- 
eyed, does  it,  to  look  at  other  folks'  bread? — 
And  where  didst  thou  get  the  idea,  thou  black- 
visaged,  horrid,  repulsive  creature,  with  moustache 
like  a  black  beetle's.  .  .  ."  Here  Piifka  demon- 
strated with  her  thick,  short  fingers  what  sort  of 
moustache  he  had. — Vasilievna  grinned  to  the  full 
extent  of  her  toothless  mouth— and  an  echo  was 
audible  from  the  adjoining  room. 

"  I  do  not  presume  to  judge  you,  of  course," 
—said  MarkelofF  to  Fomushka.— "  To  care  for 
the  poverty-stricken  and  the  crippled  is  a  good 
work.  But  permit  me  to  remark  to  you :  to  live  in 
abundance,  to  live  in  clover — not  to  oppress 
others,  but  yet  not  to  lay  finger  to  finger  for  the 
welfare  of  one's  neighbour  .  .  .  does  not  con- 
stitute being  good;  I,  at  least,  to  tell  the  truth, 
attach  no  value  whatever  to  that  sort  of  good- 
ness! " 

Here  Piifka  uttered  a  deafening  shriek;  she 
had  not  understood  a  word  of  what  Markeloff 
had  been  saying;  but  the  "black-face"  was 
scolding  .  .  .  how  dared  he? — Vasilievna  also 
muttered  something — and  Fomushka  clasped  his 
hands  on  his  breast — and  turning  his  face  to  his 
wife—"  Fimushka,   my   darling," — he   said,   al- 

226 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

most  sobbing — "  dost  thou  hear  what  our  gentle- 
man guest  is  saying?  Thou  and  I  are  sinners, 
evil-doers,  pharisees  ....  we  are  living  in 
clover,  01 !  oi !  oi !  .  .  .  Thou  and  I  must  be  turned 
into  the  street,  out  of  our  house — and  have  a 
broom  apiece  put  into  our  hands,  in  order  that  we 
may  earn  our  own  living — oh,  ho-ho!  "  On  hear- 
ing these  melancholy  words,  Pufka  took  to 
shrieking  worse  than  before,  Fimushka  narrowed 
her  eyes,  curled  her  lips — and,  after  inhaling 
plenty  of  air,  in  order  that  she  might  produce  a 
good  effect — she  began  to  scream  and  cry  at  the 
top  of  her  voice.  .  .  . 

God  knows  how  all  this  would  have  ended,  had 
not  Pakhlin  interfered. 

"  What 's  the  meaning  of  this!  upon  my  word," 
— he  began,  flourishing  his  hands  and  laughing 
loudly, — "  are  n't  you  ashamed  of  yourselves? — 
Mr.  MarkelofF  was  trying  to  joke; — but  he  has 
a  very  serious  mien — and  he  was  a  trifle  severe 
.  .  and  you  took  it  in  earnest! — Enough  of  this! 
Evfemia  Pavlovna,  my  dear  creature,  we  are 
obliged  to  go  away  directly — so  do  you  know 
what  I  am  going  to  propose?  by  way  of  farewell 
.  .  .  tell  the  fortunes  of  all  of  us  .  .  .  you  are 
a  master-hand  at  that. — Sister!  Fetch  the 
cards!" 

Fimushka  glanced  at  her  husband;  the  latter 
was  already  sitting  there  quite  serenely; — and 
she  calmed  down. 

227, 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"The  cards,  the  cards,"— she  repeated:  — 
"  but  I  have  unlearned  it,  father ;  I  have  forgot- 
ten— it  's  a  long  time  since  I  took  them  in  my 
hands " 

But  she  did  take  into  her  hands,  from  the  hands 
of  Snandiiliya,  a  pack  of  ancient,  extraordinary, 
ombre  cards. 

"  Whose  fortune  shall  I  tell?  " 

"  Why,  all  our  fortunes," — said  Pakhlin, 
promptly— but  thought  to  himself: — "  Well, 
what  a  volatile  old  lady  it  is!  turn  her  any  way 
you  hke.  .  .  She 's  charming  I— All  our  for- 
tunes, grandma,  all," — he  added,  "  the  future, 
tell  us  everything !  " 

Fimushka  was  on  the  point  of  laying  out  the 
cards,  when  she  suddenly  flung  the  whole  pack 
from  her. 

"  I  do  not  need  to  tell  your  fortunes  by  the 
cards!"— she  cried;  "I  know  the  characters  of 
each  one  of  you  without  that. — And  according 
as  the  character  is,  so  is  the  fate. — Now,  that 
one"  (she  pointed  at  Solomin) — "is  a  cool, 
steadfast  man; — and  that  one," — (she  shook  her 
finger  at  Markeloff )  — "is  a  hot-headed,  de- 
structive man."  .  .  .  (Pufka  stuck  her  tongue 
out  at  him)  ; — "  there 's  no  need  of  saying 
anything  to  thee,"—  (she  glanced  at  Pakhlin)  ; 
"  thou  knowest  thyself:  weathercock!  And  that 
one  .  .  .  ." 

She  pointed  at  Nezhdanoff — and  faltered. 

^28 


VIRGIN  SOIL 


« 


Well?" — said  he — "speak  out,  pray:  what 
sort  of  a  man  am  I?  " 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  art  thou  ..."  drawled 
Fimushka:  — "  thou  art  a  man  who  deserves  to  be 
pitied — that  's  what  thou  art!  " 

Nezhdanoff  started. 

"  Who  deserves  to  be  pitied!    Why  so?  " 

"  Because!  I  pity  thee — so  I  do!  " 

"  But  why? " 

"  Because  I  have  an  eye  that  sees  things. — Dost 
thou  think  I  am  a  fool?  On  the  contrary,  I  'm 
more  clever  than  thou, — in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
thou  hast  red  hair.  — I  pity  thee  .  .  .  and  that  's 
my  word  to  thee!  " 

All  remained  silent  ....  exchanged  glances 
and  continued  to  maintain  silence. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  friends,"— cried  Pakhlin, 
noisily.—"  We  have  overstayed  our  time  with 
you,  and  you  must  be  tired  of  us. — It  is  time  for 
these  gentlemen  to  be  going  .  .  .  and  I  'm  going 
oif  also. — Farewell;  thanks  for  your  courtesy!" 

"  Good-bye,  good-bye ;  come  again ;  do  not  dis- 
dain us,"— said  Fomushka  and  Fimushka  with 
one  voice.  .  .  And  Fomushka  suddenly  struck  up: 

"Many,  many,  many  years,  many '"' ^ 

"  Many,  many,"— quite  unexpectedly  rumbled 
out  Kalliopitch  in  his  bass  voice,  as  he  opened 
the  door  for  the  young  men 

1  That  is,"long  life,"  chanted  after  toasts  and  the  like.— Translator. 

229 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

And  all  four  suddenly  found  themselves  in 
the  street  in  front  of  the  pot-bellied  house; — 
and  inside  the  windows  resounded  Pufka's  shrill 
voice. 

"  The  fools  .  .  .  ."  she  shrieked,  "  the  fools! " 

Pakhlin  laughed  loudly;  but  no  one  responded 
to  him.  MarkelofF  even  eyed  each  of  them  over 
in  turn,  as  though  expecting  to  hear  some  word  of 
indignation.  .  . 

Solomin  alone  was  smiling,  as  was  his  wont. 


230 


XX 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it!  "— Pakhhn  was 
the  first  to  speak.  — "  We  have  been  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,— now  we  must  go  ahead— straight 
into  the  twentieth!— Goliishkin  is  such  a  pro- 
gressive man,  that  it  is  improper  to  reckon  him  in 
the  nineteenth  century." 

"Why,  dost  thou  know  him?"— asked  Nezh- 
danoff. 

"His  fame  fills  the  earth:— but  I  said,  'we 
must  go  ahead! '  because  I  intend  to  go  with  you." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Why,  thou 
art  not  acquainted  with  him?  " 

"As  if  that  mattered!  And  were  you  ac- 
quainted with  my  love-birds? " 

"  But  thou  didst  introduce  us!  " 

"And  do  you  introduce  me! — You  cannot 
have  any  secrets  from  me — and  Golushkin  is  a 
broad  man. — He  '11  be  delighted  at  a  new  face, 
see  if  he  isn't.— And  here,  with  us  in  S.  .  .  . 
things  are  simple." 

"  Yes," — muttered  MarkelofF, — "  people  are 
unceremonious  here,  with  you." 

Pakhlin  shook  his  head. 

"  Perhaps  you  intend  that  for  me.  .  .  .  Never 

231 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

mind!  I  have  deserved  that  reproof.— But,  do 
you  know,  my  new  acquaintance,  you  'd  better 
lay  aside  for  awhile  the  gloomy  thoughts  with 
which  your  bilious  temperament  inspires  you  I 
— and  the  chief  thing " 

"Mr.  My  New  Acquaintance,"— Markeloff  in- 
terrupted him,  vehemently, — "  I  will  say  to  you, 
in  my  turn  ...  by  way  of  warning:  I  never 
have  had  the  slightest  inclination  for  jokes — and 
particularly  to-day! — And  what  do  you  know 
about  my  temperament/ ^^  (He  emphasised  the 
last  syllable.) — "  It  strikes  me  that  it  is  not  so 
very  long  since  we  set  eyes  on  each  other  for  the 
first  time." 

"  Come,  stop,  stop,  don't  get  angry— and 
don't  swear — I  believe  you  without  that," — 
said  Pakhlin— and,  turning  to  Solomin:— "  Oh, 
you,"— he  exclaimed,—"  you,  whom  even  the 
perspicacious  Fimushka  called  a  cool  man, — and 
in  whom  there  certainly  is  something  soothing — 
tell  me,  had  I  any  intention  of  causing  unpleas- 
antness to  any  one — or  of  jesting  at  an  inappro- 
priate time? — I  merely  asked  to  be  allowed  to  go 
with  you  to  Goliishkin's — moreover,  I  am  an  in- 
offensive creature. — I  am  not  to  blame  for  Mr. 
MarkelofF's  yellow  complexion." 

Solomin  first  shrugged  one  shoulder,  then  the 
other;  it  was  a  trick  he  had  when  he  could  not 
immediately  decide  what  answer  to  make. 

"  No  doubt,"— he  said,  at  last,—"  you,  Mr. 

232 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

Paldilin,  cannot  cause  offence  to  any  one — and 
3'ou  do  not  desire  to  do  so:  and  why  should  not 
you  go  to  Mr.  Goliishkin's?  I  suppose  that  we 
shall  pass  the  time  as  agreeably  there  as  we  did 
with  your  relatives;— and  with  the  same  profit." 

Pakhlin  shook  his  finger  at  him. 

"Oh!  but  you  are  spiteful,  I  perceive! — But, 
of  course,  you  are  going  to  Goliishkin's  also?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Otherwise,  I  should  have 
wasted  to-day." 

"  Well,  then — '  en  avant,  marclions!  "—to  the 
twentieth  century!  to  the  twentieth  century! — 
NezhdanofF,  progressive  man,  lead  the  way!  " 

"Very  well; — go  ahead;— but  don't  repeat 
j^our  witticisms.  Some  one  might  suspect  that 
you  were  running  short  of  them." 

"  I  've  got  enough  in  stock  for  the  likes  of 
you,"  merrily  retorted  Pakhlin,  and  set  out,  as 
he  said— not  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  but  "  hop,  skip, 
and  limp." 

"A  very  entertaining  gentleman!" — re- 
marked Solomin,  as  he  followed  him,  arm  in  arm 
with  NezhdanofF:  — "  if  we  all  get  exiled  to  Si- 
beria, there  will  be  some  one  to  amuse  us." 

MarkelofF  walked  on  in  silence  behind  them  all. 
And  in  the  meantime  all  measures  were  being 
taken  in  the  house  of  merchant  Golushkin,  to 
serve  dinner  "  in  fine  style,"  or  "  with  chic." 
Fish-soup  was  cooked,  very  greasy— and  very 
bad;    various    "  patisho    and    f rykasyei "    were 

233 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

prepared— (Goliishkin,  in  his  quality  of  a 
man  who  stood  at  the  apex  of  European  civil- 
isation, although  he  was  an  Old  Ritualist,  main- 
tained a  French  kitchen,  and  hired  a  man  cook 
from  the  Club  whence  he  had  been  expelled  for 
uncleanliness)  — and,  most  important  of  all,  sev- 
eral bottles  of  champagne  were  provided  and 
put  on  the  ice. 

The  host  greeted  our  young  men  with  the 
clumsy  grimaces  peculiar  to  him,  a  hurried  aspect, 
and  giggles.— He  was  very  much  pleased  to  see 
Pakhlin,  as  the  latter  had  predicted  that  he 
would  be.  He  asked  him :  "  Are  you  really  one  of 
us? " — and,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  ex- 
claimed:—" Well,  of  course!  I  should  think  so!  " 
Then  he  narrated  how  he  had  just  been  to  see 
"  that  queer  fellow,"  the  Governor,  who  was  for- 
ever bothering  him  about  some  philanthropic  in- 
stitutions—the devil  only  knows  what.  .  .  And 
positively,  it  was  impossible  to  decide  what  grati- 
fied Goliishkin  most:  that  he  was  received  by  the 
Governor,  or  that  he  had  contrived  to  revile 
him,  in  the  presence  of  young,  progressive  men. 
Then  he  introduced  to  them  the  promised  pros- 
elyte. And  whom  did  this  proselyte  turn  out 
to  be?  That  same  smoothly-licked,  consumptive 
man,  with  a  jug-like  phiz,  who  had  entered  that 
morning  with  a  report,  and  whom  Golushkin 
had  called  Vasya, — his  manager. — "  He  's  not 
eloquent," — Golushkin   assured   them,   pointing 

234 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

at  him  with  all  five  fingers,—"  but  he  is  devoted 
to  our  cause  with  all  his  soul."— And  Vasya 
merely  bowed,  and  blushed,  and  blinked,  and  dis- 
played his  teeth  in  a  grin,  with  such  an  air,  that 
once  again  it  was  impossible  to  understand  what 
sort  of  a  fellow  he  was:  a  common-place  little 
fool— or,  on  the  contrary— the  most  perfect  rogue 
and  rascal? 

"  Well,  but  to  table,  gentlemen,  to  table,"— 
babbled  Goliishkin.  — They  seated  themselves  at 
the  table,  having  first  eaten  heartily  of  the  rel- 
ishes. Immediately  after  the  soup,  Goliishkin 
ordered  the  champagne  to  be  served.  Like 
frozen  scraps  of  the  first  thin  ice  of  winter,  it 
trickled  out  of  the  necks  of  the  bottles  into  the 
glasses  held  up  to  receive  it. — "  To  our  ...  to 
our  enterprise!"  exclaimed  Goliishkin,  winking 
one  eye  the  while,  and  nodding  his  head  toward 
the  servant,  thereby  letting  it  be  understood  that 
they  must  be  cautious  in  the  presence  of  out- 
siders. The  proselyte  Vasya  continued  to  remain 
mute— and,  although  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  his 
chair,  and,  in  general,  behaved  with  an  obse- 
quiousness which  was  not  at  all  in  keeping  with 
the  convictions  to  which  he,  according  to  his 
master's  statements,  was  devoted  with  all  his 
soul— yet  he  guzzled  the  wine  desperately!  .  .  . 
On  the  other  hand,  all  the  others  talked;  that 
is  to  say,  in  reality,  the  host  talked— and  so 
did   Pakhlin— especially  Paklilin.     NezhdanofF 

235 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

was  inwardly  vexed ;  IMarkeloff  was  in  a  rage  and 
fury — in  a  different  way,  but  no  less  violently, 
than  at  the  SubotchefF's ;  Solomin  took  obser- 
vations. 

Pakhlin  enjoyed  himself !— With  his  audacious 
language  he  pleased  Golushkin  extraordinarily, 
for  the  latter  had  no  suspicion  that  that  same 
"  limpy  "  kept  whispering  in  the  ear  of  Nezhda- 
noff,  who  sat  next  to  him,  the  most  spiteful  re- 
marks about  him,  Golushkin! — He  even  assumed 
that  the  former  was  a  simple  sort  of  young  fel- 
low, and  that  he  might  be  "  handled  "  patronis- 
ingly  .  .  .  and  that  was  one  reason — among 
others— why  he  liked  him.  Had  Pakhlin  been 
sitting  beside  him,  he  would  long  since  have 
poked  him  in  the  ribs  with  his  finger  or  slapped 
him  on  the  shoulder;  he  kept  nodding  at  him 
across  the  table,  and  wagging  his  head  in  his  di- 
rection .  .  .  but  between  NezhdanofF  and  him 
there  sat,  in  the  first  place  Markeloff — that 
"  gloomy  cloud  " — and  then  Solomin. — To  make 
up  for  this,  Golushkin,  at  every  word  Pakhlin 
uttered,  laughed  gaily  on  faith,  in  advance,  tap- 
ping himself  on  the  belly,  displaying  his  bluish 
gums.  Pakhlin  speedily  comprehended  what  was 
required  of  him,  and  began  to  revile  everything 
—  (which  exactly  suited  him) — everything  and 
everybody:  both  the  conservatives  and  the  lib- 
erals, the  officials  and  the  lawyers,  the  adminis- 
trators and  the  landed  proprietors,  and  the  mem- 

236 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

bers  of  the  county  council,  and  of  the  town  coun- 
cil, and  Moscow  and  Petersburg ! 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes," — chimed  in  Goliishkin; 
— "  just  so,  just  so,  just  so,  just  so!— Here,  for 
instance,  is  our  Mayor — a  perfect  ass!  He  's  an 
impenetrable  blockhead! — I  tell  him  thus  and  so 
.  .  .  .  but  he  understands  nothing;  he  's  as  bad 
as  our  Governor  himself!  " 

"And  is  your  Governor  stupid?  "—inquired 
Pakhlin. 

"  Why,  I  tell  you  he  's  an  ass!  " 

"  Have  you  noticed  whether  he  speaks  with  a 
rattle  or  with  a  snuffle?  " 

"What?" — inquired  Golushkin,  not  without 
surprise. 

"But  is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know?  With 
us,  in  Russia,  important  civilians  rattle  in  their 
throats;  important  military  men  talk  through 
their  noses  with  a  snuffle; — and  only  the  very 
loftiest  dignitaries  both  rattle  and  snuffle,  simul- 
taneously." 

Golushkin  roared,  he  even  wept  with  laughter. 

"Yes,  yes," — he  lisped: — "he  talks  with  a 
snuffle  .  .  .  through  his  nose  with  a  snuffle.  .  .  . 
He  's  a  military  man !  " 

"  Akh,  you  dolt!  "—said  Paklilin  to  himself. 

"  With  us  everything  is  rotten,  touch  where 
you  will!" — shouted  Golushkin,  a  little  later. — 
"  Everything,  everything  is  rotten!  " 

"  Most    respected    Kapiton    Andreitch,"— re- 

237 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

marked  Pakhlln,  impressively — and  quietly  said 
to  NezhdanofF:  "  Why  does  he  keep  jerking  his 
arms  out  as  though  his  coat  cut  him  under  the 
arms?"— "Most  respected  Kapiton  Andreitch, 
believe  me,  half  measures  will  do  no  good  here!  " 

"What  half  measures?" — shouted  Golushkin, 
suddenly  ceasing  to  laugh,  and  assuming  a  seri- 
ous mien: — "  there  's  only  one  thing  to  be  done; 
pluck  them  up  by  the  roots! — Vaska,  drink,  you 
cursed  dog! " 

"  But  I  am  drinking,  Kapiton  Andreitch," — 
replied  the  clerk,  emptying  a  glass  down  his 
throat. 

Golushkin  also  "  filled  himself  to  the  brim." 

"  Why  in  the  world  does  n't  he  burst!  " — whis- 
pered Pakhlin  to  Nezhdanoff . 

"  Habit!  "—replied  the  latter. 

But  the  clerk  was  not  the  only  one  who  drank 
the  wine.  Little  by  little  it  began  to  take  effect 
on  all  of  them. — NezhdanoiF,  Markeloff,  even 
Solomin  gradually  began  to  take  part  in  the  con- 
versation. 

At  first,  as  though  with  scorn,  as  though  with 
vexation  at  himself  that  he  was  not  upholding 
his  character  and  was  allowing  himself  to  beat 
the  air  vainly,  NezhdanofF  began  to  enlarge  upon 
the  fact  that  it  was  time  to  stop  amusing  them- 
selves with  mere  words,  time  to  "  act  "; — he  even 
referred  to  "  a  secure  foundation!  "  And  at  this 
point,  not  observing  that  he  was  contradicting 

238 


VIRGIX  SOIL 

himself,  he  began  to  demand  that  they  should 
point  out  to  him  those  existing,  real  elements  on 
which  it  was  possible  to  rely,  since  he  could  not 
perceive  them. — "  In  society  there  is  no  sym- 
pathy, in  the  populace  there  is  no  consciousness, 
.  .  .  .  struggle  as  you  will!"  Of  course,  no 
one  made  him  any  answer ;  not  because  there  was 
no  answer  to  make — but  each  one  of  them  had 
already  begun  to  utter  his  own  ideas  also. — Mar- 
keloff  began  to  drum  away,  in  a  dull  and  spite- 
ful voice,  persistently^  monotonously —  ("  for  all 
the  world  as  though  he  were  chopping  up  cab- 
bage,"— remarked  Pakhlin).  Precisely  what  he 
was  talking  about  was  not  quite  intelligible;  the 
word  "  artillery  "  became  audible  from  his  lips, 
at  moments  when  a  lull  occurred  ....  in  all 
probability  he  was  alluding  to  the  defects  which 
he  had  discovered  in  its  organisation.  The  Ger- 
mans and  adjutants  caught  it  heavily  also.  Even 
Solomin  remarked  that  there  are  two  ways  of 
waiting;  to  wait  and  do  nothing,  and  to  wait 
and  advance  the  cause. 

"  We  don't  want  any  advocates  of  gradual 
change,"  remarked  JNIarkelofF,  morosely. 

"  The  advocates  of  gradual  changes  have,  so 
far,  come  from  above," — remarked  Solomin, — 
"  but  w^e  are  going  to  make  an  effort  from  be- 
low." 

"  We  don't  want  them,  to  the  devil  with  them! 
we   don't   want   them," — chimed   in    Golushkin, 

239 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

fiercely;— "it  must  be  done  at  one  onset,  at  one 
onset! " 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  want  to  jump  out  of  the 
window? " 

"And  jump  I  will!" — roared  Golushkin.— 
"I  '11  jump!— and  Vaska  will  jump!— If  I 
give  the  command,  he'll  jump!  Hey?  Vaska? 
— Thou  wilt  jump,  wilt  thou  not?  " 

The  clerk  drained  his  glass  of  champagne. 

"  Whithersoever  you  go,  Kapiton  Andreitch, 
there  I  go  also. — Dare  I  judge?  " 

"Ah!  that  's  right!— I  '11  twist  thee  into  a 
r-ram's  h-horn! " 

There  speedily  ensued  what  is  known  in  the 
language  of  drunkards  as  the  tower  of  Babel. 
There  arose  a  "  vast  "  noise  and  uproar.— As  the 
first  snow-flakes  flutter,  swiftly  succeeding  one 
another,  and  shimmer  in  the  warm  autumn  air, 
— so,  in  the  heated  atmosphere  of  Goliishkin's 
dining-room  did  all  sorts  of  words  whirl  about, 
conflicting  with  and  crowding  one  another :  prog- 
ress, government,  literature;  the  tax  problem, 
classicism,  realism,  nihilism,  communism ;  interna- 
tional, clerical,  liberal,  capital;  administration, 
organisation,  association,  and  even  crystallisa- 
tion! Apparently  it  was  precisely  this  uj)roar 
which  sent  Golushkin  into  ecstasies;  therein,  ap- 
parently, so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  lay  the  real 
essence  of  the  thing.  .  .  .  He  was  triumphant! 
— "Know    our    people!"    he    seemed    to    say. 

240 


VIRGIN  soil; 

"  Stand  aside  ...  or  I  '11  kill  you!  .  .  .  Kapi- 
ton  Andreitch  is  coming!" — The  clerk,  Vasya, 
got  so  tipsy  at  last  that  he  began  to  snort  and 
to  talk  at  his  plate,  and  suddenly  he  shouted 
out  like  a  madman: — "What  the  devil  are  pro- 
gymnasia?  !  " 

Golushkin  suddenly  rose  to  his  feet,— and 
throwing  back  his  crimsoned  face,  whereon,  with 
the  expression  of  coarse  despotism  and  triumph 
there  was  strangely  intermingled  the  expression 
of  a  different  sentiment,  resembling  secret  alarm, 
and  even  trepidation,— he  bawled:  "  I  contribute 
another  fousand! — Vaska,  fetch  it  here!"  to 
which  Vaska  replied,  in  an  undertone: — "  Splen- 
did! "  And  Pakhlin,  all  pale  and  perspiring  (for 
the  last  quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  been  vicing 
with  the  clerk  in  his  potations), — Pakhlin, 
jumping  up  from  his  seat,  said  with  a  faltering 
tongue: — "I  contribute!  He  uttered:  'I  con- 
tribute!'—  Oh!  insult  to  that  sacred  word— I 
sacrifice !  ^  No  one  dares  to  raise  himself  to  thee, 
no  one  has  the  power  to  fulfil  those  obligations 
which  thou  imposest,  at  least  no  one  of  us  here 
present,— and  that  self -fool,  that  vile  sack  has 
shaken  his  bloated  belly,  has  strewn  out  a  handful 
of  rubles,  and  shouts :  '  I  sacrifice ! '  And  he  de- 
mands gratitude!  he  expects  a  crown  of  laurel — 
the  villain!"     Golushkin  either  did  not  hear  or 

*To  contribute  and  to  sacrifice  are  indentical  in 
Russian. — Translator. 

241 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

did  not  understand  what  Pakhlin  had  said,  or, 
possibly,  he  accepted  his  words  in  the  light  of  a 
jest,  for  he  once  more  roared:  "  Yes!  a  fousand 
rubles!  What  Kapiton  Goliishkin  has  said  is 
sacred !  "  He  suddenly  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
side  pocket. — "  Here— here  is  the  money!— There 
now,  pick  it  up;  and  remember  Kapiton!" — As 
soon  as  he  got  a  little  excited,  he  spoke  of  him- 
self, as  small  children  do,  in  the  third  person. 
NezhdanofF  gathered  up  the  bank-bills  which 
were  scattered  over  the  dripping  table-cloth.  But 
after  that  there  was  no  reason  for  remaining ;  and 
it  was  getting  late.  All  rose,  took  their  hats, — 
and  departed. 

When  they  got  into  the  open  air  the  heads  of 
all  began  to  swim — especially  Pakhlin's. 

"Well?— where  are  we  going  now?" — he 
ejaculated  not  without  difficulty. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  are  going," — replied 
Solomin, — "  but  I  am  going  home." 

"To  the  factory?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Now-by  night— afoot?  " 

"  What  of  that? — There  are  neither  wolves  nor 
brigands  here,  and  I  am  a  good  walker. — It 
is  cooler  by  night,  too." 

"  But  it  is  four  versts  thither!  " 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  were  five.— Farewell  for  the 
present,  gentlemen !  " 

Solomin  buttoned  up  his  coat,  pulled  his  cap 

242 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

down  on  his  forehead,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  went 
off  down  the  street  with  great  strides. 

"  And  whither  art  thou  going?  "— Pakhhn  ap- 
pealed to  NezhdanofF. 

"  I  'm  going  home  with  him."— He  pointed  to 
Markeloff,  who  was  standing  motionless,  with 
his  arms  folded  on  his  breast.—"  We  have  our 
horses  here,  and  our  carriage." 

"  Well,  very  good  .  .  .  and  I,  brother,  am 
going  to  the  oasis,  to  Fomushka  and  Fimu- 
shka.  And  here  I  will  tell  thee  something, 
brother.— There  is  nonsense  there  and  nonsense 
here.  .  .  .  Only,  that  nonsense,— the  nonsense 
of  the  eighteenth  century,— is  nearer  to  Russian 
real  life  than  this  twentieth-century  stuff.— 
Good-bye,  gentlemen;  I  am  drunk  .  .  .  don't  be 
hard  on  me. — Hearken  to  what  I  am  about  to  say 
to  you!  There  is  n't  a  woman  in  the  world 
.  .  .  kinder  .  .  .  and  better  .  .  .  than  my  sis- 
ter ..  .  Snanduliya;  but  then,  she  's  a  hunch- 
back, and  she— she  's  Snanduliya.  And  that 's 
the  way  it  always  is  in  this  world!— However,  it 
is  fitting  that  she  should  have  that  name.— Do  you 
know  who  Saint  Snanduliya  was?  A  benevolent 
woman  who  went  about  to  the  prisons,  and  healed 
the  wounds  of  the  prisoners  and  the  sick.— But, 
good-bye!  Good-bye,  Nezhdanoff  .  .  .  thou 
man  worthy  of  pity!  And  thou,  officer  .  .  . 
phew!  thou  phantom  of  an  officer!  good-bye! " 

He  wended  his  way,  limping  and  staggering, 

243 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

to  the  "oasis";— and  Markeloff,  in  company 
with  NezhdanoiF,  sought  out  the  posting-house, 
where  they  had  left  their  tarantas,  ordered  the 
horses  to  be  put  to— and  half  an  hour  later  they 
were  rolling  along  the  highway. 


XXI 

Low-hanging  clouds  veiled  the  sky — and  al- 
though it  was  not  entirely  dark  and  the  wheel- 
marks  were  visible  on  the  road,  faintly  shining 
ahead,  yet  to  the  right  and  the  left  everything 
was  obscured,  and  the  outlines  of  detached  ob- 
jects flowed  together  into  large,  confused  spots. 
— It  was  a  dim,  windless  night;  the  breeze  blew 
up  by  fits  and  starts  in  damp  gusts,  bringing  with 
it  the  odour  of  rain,  and  of  broad  grain-fields. 
When,  after  passing  through  the  oak-scrub, 
which  served  as  a  landmark,  the  time  came  for 
them  to  turn  off  into  the  country  road,  matters 
became  still  worse;  the  narrow  way  completely 
vanished  from  time  to  time.  .  .  .  The  coachman 
drove  more  slowly. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  not  lose  our  way," — re- 
marked NezhdanofF,  who  had  maintained  silence 
up  to  that  moment. 

"  No;  we  shall  not  lose  our  way!  " — said  Mar- 
keloff. — "  Two  calamities  do  not  happen  in  one 
day." 

"  But  what  was  the  first  calamity,  pray?  " 

"  The  first?  Why,  that  we  have  wasted  the  day, 
— do  you  count  that  as  nothing?  " 

245 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Yes  ....  of  course.  .  .  .  That  Golii- 
shkin! — We  ought  not  to  have  drunk  so  much 
wine.    I  have  a  deadly  headache  now." 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  Golushkin ;  he  gave 
some  money,  at  any  rate; — so  some  profit  has  en- 
sued from  our  visit!  " 

"Is  it  possible,  then,  that  you  regret  that  Pa- 
khlin  should  have  taken  us  to  his  .  .  .  what  the 
deuce  was  it  he  called  them  .  .  .  his  love-birds  ?  " 

"  There  's  no  occasion  for  regretting  that  .  .  . 
nor  for  rejoicing  at  it,  either.  You  see,  I  'm  not 
the  sort  of  person  who  takes  an  interest  in  such 
toys.  ...  I  was  not  alluding  to  that  calamity." 

"To  what  one,  then?" 

Markeloff  made  no  reply,  and  only  fidgeted 
about  a  little  in  his  corner,  as  though  he  were 
wrapping  himself  up.  NezhdanofF  could  not 
make  out  his  face  very  distinctly ;  only  his  mous- 
tache formed  a  black,  horizontal  line;  but  ever 
since  the  morning  he  had  been  conscious  of  the 
presence  in  Markeloff  of  something  which  it  was 
better  not  to  meddle  with— some  dull  and  secret 
irritation. 

"See  here,  Sergyei  Mikhailovitch,"  he  began, 
after  a  brief  pause;  "is  it  possible  that  you  are 
seriously  enraptured  with  the  letters  of  that  Mr. 
KislyakofF,  which  you  gave  me  to  read  to-day? 
Why — pardon  the  expression— they  are  balder- 
dash!" 

Markeloff  straightened  himself  up. 

246 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

"  In  the  first  place,"— said  he,  in  a  wrathful 
voice,—"  I  do  not  in  the  least  share  your  opinion 
as  to  those  letters,  but  find  them  very  remark- 
able .  .  .  and  conscientious!  And,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  KislyakofF  is  toiling,  labouring— and, 
most  important  of  all,  he  believes;  he  believes  in 
our  cause,  he  believes  in  the  re-vo-lu-tion !  I  must 
tell  you  one  thing,  Alexyei  Dmitritch — I  notice 
that  you — you  are  growing  cold  toward  our 
cause: — vou  do  not  believe  in  it!  " 

"  From  what  do  j^ou  draw  that  conclusion? " 
—articulated  NezhdanofF,  slowly. 

"  From  what?  Why,  from  every  one  of  your 
words,  from  your  whole  conduct! — To-day,  at 
Goliishkin's,  who  was  it  that  said  that  he  did  not 
see  on  what  elements  we  could  rely? — You! — 
Who  demanded  that  they  should  be  pointed  out 
to  him?— You,  again!  And  when  that  friend  of 
3^ours,  that  emptj^-pated  merry-andrew  and 
scoffer,  Mr.  Pakhlin,  began,  with  his  eyes  rolled 
skyward,  to  assert  that  not  one  of  us  was  capable 
of  making  a  sacrifice,  who  was  it  that  backed  him 
up,— who  was  it  that  nodded  his  head  approv- 
ingly?—Wasn't  it  you?— Talk  about  yourself  as 
much  as  you  like,  and  as  j^ou  like  ....  that  is  your 
affair  .  .  .  but  I  know  people  who  have  seen 
their  way  to  renouncing  everything  which  makes 
life  fair— even  the  bliss  of  love— in  order  that 
they  may  serve  their  convictions — in  order  that 
they    may    not    prove    false    to    them!— Well, 

247 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

you  are  not  in  the  mood  for  that  to-day,  of 
course! " 

"  To-day?    Why  to-day  in  particular?  " 

"  Come,  don't  dissimulate,  for  God's  sake,  you 
happjT^  Don  Juan,  you  lover  crowned  with  myr- 
tles!"— shouted  MarkelofF,  entirely  forgetting 
the  coachman,  who,  although  he  did  not  turn 
round  on  his  box,  could  hear  everything  with  per- 
fect distinctness.  To  tell  the  truth,  the  coach- 
man was  at  that  moment  far  more  preoccupied 
with  the  road  than  with  all  the  altercations  of  the 
gentlemen  who  were  sitting  behind  him — and  he 
cautiously  and  rather  timidly  loosened  the  reins 
of  the  shaft-horse,  which  tossed  its  head  and  held 
back  as  the  tarantas  descended  some  declivity 
which  should  not  have  been  there  at  all. 

"  Pardon  me— I  do  not  understand  you  in  the 
least  "—said  NezhdanoiF. 

MarkelofF  burst  into  a  constrained  and  mali- 
cious laugh. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me!  Ha,  ha,  ha! — 
I  know  everything,  my  dear  sir!  I  know  with 
whom  you  exchanged  declarations  of  love  last 
night;  I  know  whom  you  have  captivated  by 
your  fortunate  personal  appearance  and  your 
eloquence;  I  know  who  it  is  that  admits  you  to 
her  chamber  ....  after  ten  o'clock  at  night ! " 

"Master!" — the  coachman  suddenly  addressed 
JMarkeloff.— "  Please  to  take  the  reins  ...  I 
will  get  down  and  look  about.  .  .  We  seem  to 

248 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

have  lost  our  way,  .  ,  There  's  a  ravine  yonder, 
I  think " 

The  tarantas  was,  in  fact,  leaning  all  to  one 
side. 

MarkeloiF  seized  the  reins  which  the  coachman 
handed  to  him,  and  went  on,  as  loudly  as  be- 
fore : 

"  I  do  not  blame  you  in  the  least,  Alexyei  Dmi- 
tritch!  You  have  taken  advantage  of  .  .  .  you 
were  right.  I  am  merely  saying  that  I  am  not 
surprised  at  your  having  grown  cold  toward  the 
common  cause;  that  is  not  what  you  have  on 
3^our  mind— I  will  say  it  once  more.  And  I 
will  add,  incidentally,  on  my  own  account: 
where  is  the  man  who  can  divine,  in  advance, 
that  precisely  he  is  going  to  please  the  hearts 
of  maidens— or  can  comprehend  what  they 
desire?  .  .  ." 

"  I  understand  you  now," — began  Nezhda- 
nofF; — "  I  understand  your  distress,  I  divine  who 
it  was  that  watched  us  and  hastened  to  commu- 
nicate to  you.  ..." 

"  Merits  do  not  count,  in  that  case  " — pursued 
MarkelofF,  feigning  not  to  hear  NezhdanoiF,  and 
purposely  prolonging  and,  as  it  were,  intoning 
every  word — "  nor  any  extraordinary  spiritual 
or  physical  qualities.  .  .  No!  It  is  simply  .  .  . 
that  thrice-accursed  luck  of  all  illegitimate  chil- 
dren .  .  of  all  bastards!  " 

Markeloff  uttered  tlie  final  phrase  swiftly  and 

24.9 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

vehemently,  and  suddenly  became  as  mute  as 
though  he  had  swooned. 

But  even  through  the  darkness  Nezhdanoff 
felt  himself  turn  white  all  over,  and  chills  ran 
down  his  cheeks.  He  could  hardly  refrain  from 
hurling  himself  on  MarkelofT,  from  clutching 
him  by  the  throat.  ..."  That  insult  must  be 
washed  out  with  blood — with  blood.  .  .  ." 

"I  have  found  the  road!" — cried  the  coach- 
man, making  his  appearance  beside  the  off  front 
wheel—"  I  went  a  little  astray,  turned  to  the  left 
.  .  .  it  's  all  right  now! — we  '11  get  there  in  a 
jiflpy;  it  is  n't  a  verst  to  our  house.  Please  take 
your  seat! " 

He  climbed  on  the  box,  took  the  reins  from 
MarkelofF,  turned  the  shaft-horse  to  one  side.  .  . 
The  tarantas  gave  a  couple  of  violent  jolts— then 
it  rolled  onward  more  evenly  and  more  speedily 
— the  fog  seemed  to  part  and  to  lift,  it  curled 
away  like  smoke — a  sort  of  hillock  started  up 
ahead.  Now  a  light  twinkled— it  vanished.  .  . 
Another  twinkled.  .  .  A  dog  barked.  .  .  . 

"Our  settlement," — remarked  the  coachman; 
"  ekh,  you  darling  kittens!  " 

The  lights  came  to  meet  them  more  and  more 
frequently. 

"  After  this  affront,"— said  Nezhdanoff,  at 
last,—"  you  will  easily  comprehend,  Sergyei  Mi- 
khailovitch,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  pass  the 
night  under  your  roof;  and  therefore  there  is 

250 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

nothing  left  for  me  to  do,  but  to  ask  you,  how- 
ever disagreeable  it  may  be  to  me,  that  on  reach- 
ing home  you  will  let  me  have  your  tarantas, 
which  will  take  me  to  the  town ;  to-morrow  I  will 
find  means  of  getting  home;— and  from  there 
you  will  receive  from  me  the  intimation  which 
you  are,  in  all  likelihood,  expecting." 

MarkelofF  did  not  immediately  reply. 

"  Nezhdanoff,"— he  suddenly  said,  in  a  low, 
but  almost  despairing  voice.—"  Nezhdanoff! 
For  God's  sake,  come  into  my  house— if  only 
in  order  that  I  may  entreat  your  forgiveness  on 
my  bended  knees!— Nezhdanoff !  Forget  .  .  . 
forget  thou,  forget  my  mad  words !  Akh,  if  any 
one  could  realise  how  unhappy  I  am! " — Marke- 
loff  smote  himself  with  his  clenched  fist  on  the 
breast — and  something  within  it  seemed  to  utter 
a  moan.— "  Nezhdanoff,  be  thou  magnanimous! 
Give  me  thy  hand.  .  .  .  Do  not  refuse  to  forgive 
me!" 

Nezhdanoff  put  out  his  hand  to  him — irreso- 
lutely, but  still  he  put  it  out.— Markeloff 
squeezed  it  so  hard  that  the  other  man  came  near 
crying  out. 

The  tarantas  drew  up  at  the  porch  of  Marke- 
loff*'s  house. 

"Listen,  Nezhdanoff,"-Markeloff  said  to 
him  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  in  his  own  study, 
.  .  .  .  "  listen."  (He  no  longer  addressed  him 
otherwise  than  as  "  thou,"  and  in  that  unexpected 

251 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

thoti^  applied  to  the  man,  in  whom  he  had  dis- 
covered a  happy  rival,  to  whom  he  had  just  dealt 
a  bloody  insult,  whom  he  had  been  ready  to  slay, 
to  rend  in  pieces — in  that  "  thou  "  there  lay  ir- 
revocable renunciation — and  submissive,  bitter 
entreaty — and  a  certain  right  .  .  .  Nezhdanoif 
recognised  that  right  in  that  he  himself  began 
to  address  MarkeloiF  as  thou). 

"  Listen!  I  told  thee  just  now  that  I  had  re- 
nounced the  happiness  of  love,  had  repelled  it, 
in  order  that  I  might  serve  my  convictions  alone. 
....  That  is  nonsense,  boastfulness!  Nothing 
of  the  sort  was  ever  offered  to  me,  I  had  nothing 
to  reject!  I  was  born  unlucky,  and  so  I  have  re- 
mained, .  .  Or,  perhaps  it  had  to  be  so. — There- 
fore, my  hands  are  not  set  to  that — something  else 
awaits  me!  If  thou  art  able  to  unite  both  things 
...  to  love,  and  to  be  loved  ....  and,  at  the 
same  time,  to  serve  the  cause  .  .  .  well,  then  thou 
art  a  gallant  fellow! — I  envy  thee  ....  but  I 
myself  am  not!  I  cannot.  Thou  art  a  lucky 
man!    Thou  art  a  lucky  man! — But  I  cannot." 

Markeloff  said  all  this  in  a  quiet  voice,  as  he 
sat  on  a  low  chair,  with  drooping  head,  and  with 
arms  hanging  like  whip-lashes.  Nezhdanoff  was 
standing  in  front  of  him,  absorbed  in  a  sort  of 
meditative  attention,  and  although  Markeloff 
had  given  him  the  title  of  a  happy  man,  he  nei- 
ther looked  nor  felt  like  one. 

"  A  woman  deceived  me  in  my  youth  .  .  .  ." 

252 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

went  on  Markeloff ;— "  she  was  a  splendid  girl, 
and  yet  she  betrayed  me  .  .  and  for  whom? 
For  a  German!  for  an  adjutant!!  But  Mari- 
anna  .  .  .  ." 

He  paused.  .  .  He  had  uttered  her  name  for 
the  first  time,  and  it  seemed  to  scorch  his  lips. 

"  Marianna  did  not  deceive  me:  she  told  me 
plainly  that  I  did  not  please  her.  .  .  And  what 
was  there  about  me  to  please  her? — Well,  and 
she  has  given  herself  to  thee.  .  .  Well,  and  what 
of  that?    Was  not  she  free ?  " 

"But  stay,  stay!" — exclaimed  NezhdanoiF. — 
"  What  art  thou  saying? — What  dost  thou  mean 
by  saying  she  has  given  herself? — I  do  not  know 
what  thy  sister  has  written  to  thee;  but  I  assure 
thee  .  .  .  ." 

"  I  do  not  say,  phj^sically,  but  she  has  given 
herself  morally — with  her  heart  and  her  soul  " — 
put  in  Markeloff,  who  was  evidently  pleased, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  by  NezhdanofF's  ex- 
clamation.—" And  she  has  done  very  well  indeed. 
And  my  sister.  .  .  .  Of  course,  she  had  no  in- 
tention of  distressing  me.  .  .  That  is  to  say,  in 
reality  the  whole  thing  is  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  her;  but  it  must  be  that  she  hates  thee— and 
Marianna  also.  — She  did  not  lie  ...  .  how- 
ever, I  have  done  with  her!  " 

"  Yes,"— said  Nezhdanoff  to  himself:—"  she 
does  hate  us." 

"  It  is  all  for  the  best,"  pursued  IMarkelofF, 

253 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

not  altering  his  attitude. — "  Now  the  last  fetters 
have  been  removed  from  me;  now  nothing  fur- 
ther impedes  me!  Pay  no  heed  to  the  fact  that 
Golushkin  is  a  self -fool:  that  is  nothing.  And 
KislyakofF's  letters  .  .  .  possibly  they  are  ridic- 
idous  ...  in  fact;  but  thou  must  pay  attention 
to  the  principal  point.  According  to  his  state- 
ments .  .  everything  is  ready  everywhere. — Per- 
haps thou  dost  not  believe  that?  " 

NezhdanofF  made  no  answer. 

"Perhaps  thou  art  right; — but,  thou  seest,  if 
we  are  to  wait  for  the  minute  when  everything 
— absolutely  everything — is  ready,  the  time  to  be- 
gin will  never  arrive. — For  if  all  the  consequences 
are  to  be  weighed  in  advance,  there  assuredly 
will  be  some  bad  ones  among  them.  For  exam- 
ple, when  our  predecessors  organised  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  serfs — what  then?  could  they  fore- 
see that  one  of  the  results  of  that  emancipation 
would  be  the  appearance  of  a  whole  class  of  usu- 
rious landed  proprietors  who  would  sell  a  peasant 
a  quarter  of  rotten  rye  for  six  rubles — and  re- 
ceive from  him  "  (here  MarkelofF  bent  down  one 
finger)  :  "in  the  first  place,  labour,  to  the  value  of 
the  whole  six  rubles,  and,  over  and  above  that," 
—  (MarkelofF  bent  down  another  finger) — "a 
whole  quarter  of  good  rye — and  in  addition  " — 
(Markeloff  bent  a  tliird  finger) — "with  a  sup- 
plement! that  is  to  say,  they  suck  out  the  peas- 
ant's last  drop  of  blood !    For  those  emancipators 

254 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

of  yours  could  not  foresee  this— you  must  agree! 
And,  nevertheless,  even  if  they  had  foreseen  it, 
they  would  have  done  well  in  liberating  the  peas- 
ants— and  in  not  weighing  all  the  consequences! 
And  so  ...  .  my  mind  is  made  up !  " 

NezhdanofF  looked  inquiringly  and  with  sur- 
prise at  MarkelofF ;  but  the  latter  averted  his  gaze 
to  one  side — to  a  corner.  His  brows  contracted, 
and  covered  his  eyeballs ;  he  bit  his  lips  and  chewed 
his  moustache. 

"Yes,  my  mind  is  made  up!" — he  repeated, 
bringing  his  hairy,  swarthy  fist  down  on  his  knee 
with  a  bang. — "  You  see,  I  am  stubborn.  .  .  It 
is  not  for  nothing  that  I  am  half  Little  Russian." 

Then  he  rose,  and  shuffling  his  feet  as  though 
they  had  grown  feeble,  he  went  into  his  bedroom, 
and  brought  thence  a  small  portrait  of  Marianna 
under  glass. 

"  Take  it," — he  said,  in  a  sad  but  even  voice; 
— "I  made  that  once  on  a  time.  I  draw  badly; 
but  look  at  it,  it  strikes  me  that  it  is  like  her  " — 
(the  portrait,  sketched  with  pencil,  in  profile, 
really  was  a  good  likeness). — "  Take  it,  brother; 
this  is  my  last  will  and  testament.  Together  with 
this  portrait  I  transfer  to  thee  not  my  rights  .  .  . 
I  never  had  any  .  .  .  but,  thou  knowest,  every- 
thing! I  transfer  to  thee  everything — and  her. 
She  is  a  fine  girl,  brother!  .  .  .  ." 

MarkelofF  stopped;  his  breast  was  heaving 
visibly. 

255 


VIRGIN   SOIL 


« 


Take  it.  Surely,  thou  art  not  angry  with  me? 
Come,  take  it.  But  now,  I  need  nothing  .... 
of  that  sort." 

NezhdanofF  took  the  portrait;  but  a  strange 
feehng  oppressed  his  breast.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  no  right  to  accept  that  gift ;  that,  had 
INIarkeloiF  known  what  he,  NezhdanofF,  had  on 
his  heart,  perhaps  he  would  not  have  given  away 
that  portrait.  NezhdanofF  held  in  his  hand  that 
small,  circular  bit  of  cardboard,  carefully 
mounted  in  a  narrow  black  frame,  with  a  slender 
line  of  gold  paper — and  did  not  know  what  to 
do  with  it. — "  Why,  this  is  the  man's  whole  life 
that  I  hold  in  my  hand," — he  thought.  He  un- 
derstood what  a  sacrifice  MarkelofF  was  mak- 
ing, but  why,  why  to  him  in  particular?— And 
give  away  the  portrait?  No!  That  would  be  the 
most  malignant  insult  yet. — And,  in  conclusion, 
that  face  was  dear  to  him,  of  course;  of  course 
he  loved  her! 

NezhdanofF  raised  his  eyes  to  MarkelofF,  not 
without  some  inward  terror  .  .  .  lest  the  latter 
might  be  gazing  at  him — might  be  trying  to 
catch  his  thought?— But  MarkelofF's  eyes  were 
again  riveted  on  the  corner,  and  he  was  chewing 
his  moustache. 

The  aged  servant  entered  the  room  with  a 
candle  in  his  hand. 

MarkelofF  gave  a  start. 
It  is  time  to  go  to  bed,  brother  Alexyei!  "— 

256 


a 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

he  exclaimed. — "  The  morning  is  wiser  than  the 
evening.  I  will  give  thee  horses  to-morrow — 
thou  shalt  drive  home — and  good-bye  to  thee." 

"Good-bye  to  thee,  also,  old  fellow!"— he 
added  suddenly,  addressing  the  servant,  and  tap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder.—"  Think  kindly  of 
me!" 

The  old  man  was  so  astounded  that  he 
came  near  dropping  the  candles,  and  his  gaze, 
fixed  on  his  master,  expressed  something  dif- 
ferent from— and  greater  than  his  wonted 
dejection. 

Nezhdanoff  went  away  to  his  room.  He  felt 
uncomfortable.  His  head  still  ached  from  the 
wine  he  had  drunk,  there  was  a  ringing  in  his 
ears,  things  flitted  before  his  eyes,  although  he 
closed  them.  Golushkin,  Vaska  the  clerk,  F6- 
mushka,  Fimushka- spun  round  and  round  be- 
fore him ;  afar  off,  the  image  of  Marianna  could 
not  make  up  its  mind  to  approach,  as  though  it 
felt  distrust.  Everything  he  had  done  and  said 
himself  seemed  to  him  so  false  and  such  a  lie, 
such  useless  and  mawkish  twaddle  ....  and 
that  which  ought  to  be  done,  that  toward  which 
he  should  strive,— was  no  one  knew  where,  in- 
accessible, behind  ten  locks,  buried  in  the  utter- 
most depths  of  hell.  .  .  . 

And  he  tried,  incessantly,  to  rise,  to  go  to 
Markeloff,  to  say  to  him:  "  Take  thy  gift,  take 
it  back!" 

257 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  Phew!    What  a  disgusting  thing  life  is  I  "— 
he  exclaimed  at  last. 

He  took  his  departure  early  the  next  morning. 
MarkelofF  was  already  on  the  porch,  surrounded 
by  peasants.  Whether  he  had  summoned  them, 
or  whether  they  had  come  of  their  own  accord, 
NezhdanofF  did  not  find  out;  MarkelofF  took 
leave  of  him  in  a  very  cuii:  and  monosyllabic  way 
....  but  appeared  to  be  making  up  his  mind 
to  communicate  to  him  something  important. 
The  old  servant  was  in  evidence,  also,  with  his 
immutable  gaze. 

The  tarantas  soon  dashed  through  the  town, 
and  turning  into  the  fields,  rolled  briskly  along. 
—  The  horses  were  the  same;  but  the  coachman, 
— whether  because  NezhdanofF  lived  in  a  wealthy 
house,  or  for  some  other  reason,  he  reckoned  upon 

a  fine  tip nevertheless,  it  is  a  well-known  fact : 

when  the  coachman  has  had  a  drink  of  liquor,  or 
confidently  expects  one— the  horses  make  excel- 
lent speed.  It  was  June  weather,  though  cool; 
there  were  lofty  sportive  clouds  in  the  blue  sky, 
a  strong  even  breeze,  the  road  was  free  from 
dust,  which  had  been  laid  by  the  rain  of  the  pre- 
ceding day,  the  willows  were  rustling  and  shim- 
mering and  rippling,— everything  was  stirring 
and  fljang,— the  cry  of  the  quail  was  borne,  in 
a  shrill  whistle,  from  the  distant  hillocks,  across 
the  green  ravines,  exactly  as  though  the  cry  had 
wings,  and  were  flying  with  them,— the  daws 

258   . 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

were  gleaming  in  the  sunlight,  Something  resem- 
bling dark-hued  fleas  was  walking  along  the  level 
line  of  the  bare  horizon  ...  it  was  peasants 
ploughing  the  fallow  fields  for  the  second  time. 

But  NezhdanofF  allowed  all  this  to  pass  him 
by  ...  he  did  not  even  notice  when  he  reached 
the  Sipyagin  estate— to  such  a  degree  was  he 
engrossed  in  his  thoughts. 

But  he  shuddered  when  he  espied  the  roof  of 
the  house,  the  upper  story,  the  window  of  Mari- 
anna's  chamber.—"  Yes,"— he  said  to  himself,— 
and  his  heart  grew  warm:— '^'^^^  is  right— she  is 
a  fine  girl— and  I  love  her." 


259 


XXII 

He  hastily  changed  his  clothes  and  went  to  give 
Kolya  his  lesson.  —  Sipyagin,  whom  he  encoun- 
tered in  the  dining-room,  howed  to  him  coldly  and 
politely — and,  filtering  through  his  teeth  the 
words:  "  Did  you  have  a  good  time?  " — pursued 
his  way  to  his  study. — The  statesman  had  al- 
ready determined,  in  his  ministerial  mind,  that 
as  soon  as  the  vacation  was  over,  he  would  in- 
stantly despatch  that  "  decidedly  too  handsome  " 
— teacher  to  Petersburg,  and,  in  the  meanwhile, 
would  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  him. — "  Je  nai  pas 
eu  la  mam  heureuse  cette  fois-ci"  he  thought  to 
himself;  "however,  j'aurais  pu  toinher  pire." — 
Valentina  Mikhailovna's  sentiments  toward 
NezhdanofF  were  far  more  energetic  and  clearly 
defined.  She  could  no  longer  tolerate  him  at  all. 
.  .  .  He,  that  horrid  little  boy!— he  had  insulted 
her. — Marianna  had  made  no  mistake:  it  was  she, 
Valentina  Mildiailovna,  who  had  played  the 
eavesdropper  in  the  corridor  on  her  and  Nezh- 
danoff.  .  .  .  The  illustrious  lady  had  not  dis- 
dained to  do  this.  In  the  course  of  the  two  days 
during  which  he  had  been  absent,  she,  although 
she  said  nothing  to  her  "  light-minded  "  relative, 

260 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

— yet  constantly  gave  her  to  understand,  that  she 
knew  all,  that  she  would  have  been  incensed,  were 
it  not,  in  part,  that  she  scorned,  in  part  commiser- 
ated her.  .  .  .  Repressed,  inward  disdain  filled 
her  cheeks,  a  sentiment  which  was  both  mocking 
and  compassionate  elevated  her  brows  when  she 
glanced  at  Marianna  or  spoke  to  her;  her  won- 
derful eyes  lingered  with  soft  amazement,  with 
sorrowful  fastidiousness  on  the  presumptuous 
young  girl  who,  after  all  her  "  freaks  and  eccen- 
tricities," had  ended  by  ki  .  .  .  is  .  .  .  sing  in 
a  dark  room  a  student  who  had  not  graduated 
from  the  university ! 

Poor  Marianna!  Her  stern,  proud  lips  had 
known  no  kisses  as  yet. 

But  Valentina  Mikhailovna  never  hinted  to 
her  husband  at  the  discovery  she  had  made;  she 
contented  herself  with  accompanying  the  few 
words  which  she  addressed  to  Marianna  in  his 
presence — with  an  expressive  little  simper,  which 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  their  tenor. — 
Valentina  Mikhailovna  even  felt  rather  repent- 
ant for  having  written  that  letter  to  her  brother. 
....  But,  after  all,  she  preferred  to  repent,  and 
that  the  thing  should  have  been  done— rather 
than  not  repent,  and  that  letter  should  have  re- 
mained unwritten. 

NezhdanofF  caught  a  glimpse  of  Marianna 
in  the  dining-room,  at  breakfast.  He  thought 
she  had  grown  thin  and  sallow :  she  was  not  pretty 

261 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

that  day;  but  the  swift  glance  which  she  cast  at 
him,  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  room,  pierced  his 
very  heart.— On  the  other  hand,  Valentina  Mi- 
khailovna  stared  at  him  as  though  she  were  con- 
stantly repeating  inwardly: — "I  offer  you  my 
congratulations!  Very  fine,  indeed!  Very 
clever! " — and,  at  the  same  time,  as  though  she 
would  have  liked  to  read  in  his  countenance 
whether  MarkelofF  had  shown  him  her  letter  or 
not?— She  eventually  decided  that  he  had 
shown  it. 

Sipyagin,  on  learning  that  Nezhdanoff  had 
been  to  the  factory  which  Solomin  managed,  be- 
gan to  interrogate  him  about  that  "  establish- 
ment, in  every  respect  interesting  to  industry;" — 
and  becoming  promptly  convinced,  from  the 
young  man's  replies,  that  he  had  actually  seen 
nothing  there  himself,  he  relapsed  into  majestic 
silence,  as  though  censuring  himself  for  having 
expected  any  practical  information  from  such  an 
immature  person! — As  Marianna  quitted  the 
dining-room,  she  contrived  to  whisper  to  Nezh- 
danoff : 

"  Wait  for  me  in  the  old  birch-grove,  at  the 
end  of  the  park;— I  will  go  there  as  soon  as  I 
can."— Nezhdanoff  thought:  "  She,  also,  ad- 
dresses me  as  '  thou  ' — just  as  he  did." — And 
how  pleasant,  though  rather  painful,  it  was  to 
him!  .  .  .  and  how  strange  it  would  have  been — 
yes,  fairly  impossible— had  she  suddenly  begun 

262 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

again  to  call  him  "  you  "—if  she  had  turned 
away  from  him.  .  .  . 

He  felt  that  that  would  be  a  misfortune  for 
him. — Whether  he  was  in  love  with  her— he  did 
not  yet  know;  but  she  had  become  dear  to  him 
— and  close  to  him — and  necessary  to  him  .... 
that  was  the  principal  thing:  necessary— he  felt 
that,  with  his  whole  being. 

The  grove  whither  Marianna  had  despatched 
him  consisted  of  a  hundred  lofty,  ancient,  chiefly 
weeping  birches.  The  wind  had  not  died  down; 
the  long  tufts  of  branches  swayed  and  fluttered 
about  like  loosely-flowing  locks  of  hair;  the 
clouds,  as  before,  were  floating  high  aloft  and 
swiftly; — and  when  one  of  them  flitted  across 
tho  sun,  everything  round  about  became,  not 
dark,  but  uniform  in  hue.— But  now  it  passed 
over — and  suddenly,  everywhere,  brilliant  flecks 
of  light  tossed  mutinously  again:  they  became 
entangled,  they  shimmered,  they  intermingled 
with  spots  of  shadow  .  .  .  the  sound  and  the 
movement  were  identical;  but  what  a  festive  joy 
was  added  thereto!  With  the  same  sort  of  joy- 
ous efl'ort  does  passion  force  its  way  into  the 
darkened  heart.  .  .  .  And  just  that  sort  of  a 
heart  did  NezhdanofF  bear  in  his  breast. 

He  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  a  birch-tree 
and  began  to  wait.— He  did  not— strictly  speak- 
ing—know what  he  felt — and  he  did  not  wish 
to  know;  he  felt  more  afraid,  and  more  at  ease, 

263 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

than  he  had  at  Markeloff' s.  He  wished,  first 
of  all,  to  see  her,  to  talk  with  her;  that  knot 
which  suddenly  binds  two  living  beings  had 
already  seized  him  in  its  grasp. — Nezhdanoff 
called  to  mind  the  rope  which  flies  to  the 
shore    from    the    steamer    when    the    latter    is 

about  to  make  a  landing Now  it  has 

encircled  a  post,  and  the  steamer  comes  to  a 
halt 

In  port!    Thank  God! 

He  suddenly  shuddered.  A  woman's  gown 
was  flitting  along  the  path  in  the  distance.  It 
was  she.  But  whether  she  was  approaching  him 
or  receding  from  him,  he  did  not  know,  until  he 
saw  the  spots  of  light  and  shadow  glide  across 
her  face  from  below  upward  .  .  .  which  signi- 
fied that  she  was  approaching.  They  would  have 
glided  downward  from  above,  had  she  been  re- 
ceding. A  few  moments  more  and  she  stood  by 
his  side,  in  front  of  him,  with  welcoming,  viva- 
cious countenance,  with  a  caressing  gleam  in 
her  eyes,  with  lips  which  smiled  faintly  but  mer- 
rily.— He  grasped  her  outstretched  hands— but 
for  the  moment  was  unable  to  articulate  a  single 
word;— neither  did  she  say  anything.  She  had 
walked  very  rapidly,  and  was  slightly  out  of 
breath;  but  it  was  obvious  that  she  was  greatly 
rejoiced  by  his  joy. 

She  was  the  first  to  speak. 
Well,  what  news,"— she  began,— "tell  me, 

264 


<c 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

as  quickly  as  possible,  what  you  have  decided 
on?" 

Nezhdanoff  was  astonished. 

"  Decided.  .  .  .  Why,  was  it  necessary  to  de- 
cide now? " 

*'  Come,  thou  understandest  me. — Tell  me 
what  thou  hast  talked  about?  Whom  hast  thou 
seen? — Hast  thou  made  acquaintance  with  Solo- 
min? — Tell  me  everything  ....  everything! 
Stay,  let  us  go  further  away.  I  know  a  spot 
...  we  shall  not  be  visible  there." 

She  drew  him  after  her.  He  followed  her 
obediently  across-lots,  through  the  tall,  sparse, 
dry  grass. 

She  led  him  to  the  place  she  wished.  There 
lay  a  huge  birch,  overturned  by  a  tempest.  They 
seated  themselves  on  its  trunk. 

"Tell  me!" — she  repeated,  but  instantly 
added:— "Akh,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  thee!  It 
seemed  to  me  as  though  those  two  days  would 
never  come  to  an  end.  Thou  knowest,  I  am  now 
thoroughly  convinced  that  Valentina  Mikhai- 
lovna  overheard  us." 

"  She  wrote  to  MarkelofF  about  it,"— said 
Nezhdanoff. 

"To  him?" 

Marianna  paused,  and  gradually  blushed  all 
over,— not  with  shame,  but  with  another,  a  more 
violent  emotion.  —  "  The  spiteful,  wicked  wo- 
man!"—she   whispered    slowly:— "she   had   no 

265 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

right  to  do  that.  .  .  .  Well,  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence!   Tell  your  story,  tell  your  story." 

NezhdiinofF  began  to  speak Marianna 

listened  to  him  with  a  sort  of  petrified  attention 
— and  only  interrupted  him  when  she  perceived 
that  he  was  hurrying  on,  and  not  pausing  over 
details. — But  not  all  the  details  of  his  trip  were  of 
equal  interest  to  her ;  she  laughed  over  Fomushka 
and  Fimushka,  but  they  did  not  interest  her. 
Their  mode  of  existence  was  too  remote  from 
her. 

"  It  is  exactly  as  though  thou  wert  imparting 
to  me  information  about  Nebuchadnezzar," — she 
remarked. 

But  when  it  came  to  what  MarkelofF  said, 
to  what  even  Goliishkin  thought  (although  she 
immediately  comprehended  what  sort  of  a  bird 
he  was)  — and,  most  of  all,  when  it  came  to  So- 
lomin's  opinion — and  to  the  manner  of  man  he 
was — that  was  what  she  required  to  know,  that 
was  what  fretted  her.  "  But  when?  when?  " — 
that  question  was  constantly  whirling  in  her 
brain,  was  rising  to  her  lips,  all  the  while  that 
Nezhdanoff  was  talking.  But  he  appeared  to 
avoid  everything  which  might  aiford  a  decisive 
answer  to  that  question.  He  himself  began  to 
notice  that  he  was  dwelling  upon  precisely  those 
details  which  were  least  interesting  to  Marianna 
....  and  kept  incessantly  reverting  to  them. 
Humorous  descriptions  evoked  her  indignation; 

266 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

a  disenchanted  or  dejected  tone  grieved  her.  .  . 
He  was  obliged  to  recur  constantly  to  "  the 
cause,"  to  "  the  question."  On  those  points  no 
prolixity  wearied  her.  NezhdanofF  recalled  the 
time  when,  while  still  a  student,  and  living  at 
the  villa  of  some  good  friends  of  his,  during 
the  summer,  he  had  undertaken  to  tell  the  chil- 
dren fairy-stories: — and  they,  also,  had  not  ap- 
preciated either  descriptions,  or  the  expression  of 
his  personal  sentiments  ....  they  also  had  de- 
manded action,  facts! — Marianna  was  no  child, 
but  she  resembled  a  child  in  straightforwardness 
and  simplicity  of  feeling. 

NezhdanoiF  praised  Markeloff  sincerely  and 
warmly — and  expressed  himself  with  peculiar 
sympathy  in  regard  to  Solomin.  As  he  spoke  of 
him,  in  almost  exaggerated  terms,  he  asked  him- 
self: what,  in  particular  it  was  which  had  caused 
him  to  cherish  so  lofty  an  opinion  concerning  that 
man?  He  had  uttered  nothing  especially  clever: 
some  of  his  remarks  even  seemed  to  be  at  variance 
with  the  views  of  Nezhdanoff  himself.  ..."  A 
well-balanced  character,"  he  thought: — "that  's 
what  it  is;  methodical,  fresh,  as  Fimushka  said; — 
a  big  man ;  a  calm,  strong  force ;  he  knows  what  he 
wants,  and  has  confidence  in  himself — and  he 
arouses  confidence;  there  is  no  anxiety  in  him 
.  .  .  .  and  there  is  equilibrium!  equilibriimi ! 
.  .  .  .  That  is  the  chief  thing;  precisely  what 
I  do  not  possess."    NezhdanofF  relapsed  into  si- 

267 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

lence,  engrossed  in  meditation All  of  a 

sudden  he  felt  the  touch  of  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

He  raised  his  head:  Marianna  was  regarding 
him  with  solicitous  and  tender  gaze. 

"  Friend!  what  is  the  matter  with  thee?  "—she 
asked. 

He  removed  her  hand  from  his  shoulder,  and, 
for  the  first  time,  he  kissed  that  small,  but  power- 
ful hand.  Marianna  laughed  a  little,  as  though 
surprised ;  what  had  put  such  a  piece  of  gallantry 
into  his  head?— then  she  became  thoughtful  in 
her  turn. 

"  Did  MarkelofF  show  thee  Valentina  Mikhai- 
lovna's  letter?  "—she  asked  at  last. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well  .  .  and  what  did  he  do? " 

"  He?— He  is  the  noblest,  the  most  self-sacri- 
ficing being!  He  .  .  .  ."  Nezhdanoff  was  on 
the  point  of  telling  Marianna  about  the  portrait 
—but  refrained,  and  merely  repeated:— "  the 
most  noble  being! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes!  " 

Again  Marianna  fell  into  thought — and,  sud- 
denly turning  to  Nezhdanoff  on  the  bole  of  the 
tree,  which  served  them  both  as  a  seat,  she  said 
slyly: 

"  Well,  and  what  did  you  decide  upon?  " 

Nezhdanoff  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Why,  I  have  already  told  thee,  that — for  the 

present— nothing  is  decided  upon;  we  must  wait 

a  while  yet." 

268 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"Wait  a  while.  .  .  .  What  for?" 
"  For  the  final  instructions."   ("  I  am  lying," 
— flashed  through  NezhdanofF's  mind.) 
"  From  whom? " 

"  From  that  .  .  .  thou  knowest  ....  from 
Vasfly  Nikolaevitch.  And  then  we  must  also 
wait  until  Ostrodumoff  returns." 

Marianna  cast  a  questioning  glance  at  Nezh- 
danofF. 

"  Tell  me,  hast  thou  ever  seen  that  Vasily  Ni- 
kolaevitch? " 

"  I  have  seen  him  a  couple  of  times  ....  had 
a  glimpse  of  him." 

"  What  is  he  like  ....  a  remarkable  man?  " 
"  How  shall  I  describe  him  to  thee?  Now  he 
is  the  head — well,  and  he  manages  matters. 
And  we  cannot  dispense  with  discipline  in  our 
cause;  there  must  be  obedience."  ("And  that 
is  all  nonsense," — thought  Nezhdanoff  to  him- 
self.) 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  " 
"  What  sort  of  a  man?— very  thick-set,  pon- 
derous, dark-skinned.  .  .  .  He  has  a  face  with 
high  cheek-bones,  a  coarse  ....  Kalmyk  face. 
Only  his  eyes  are  very  animated." 
"  And  how  does  he  talk?  " 
"  He  commands,  rather  than  talks." 
"  Why  has  he  been  made  the  head?  " 
"  He  is  a  man  of  strong  character.    He  shrinks 
fix^m   nothing.      If   necessary— he   will   commit 
murder.    Well— and  he  is  feared." 

269 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

"  And  what  sort  of  a  man  is  Solomin?  " 

"  Solomin,  also,  is  anything  but  handsome ; 
only,  he  has  a  splendid  face,  simple,  and  honest. 
Among  theological  students — the  nice  ones — such 
faces  are  sometimes  to  be  found." 

NezhdanofF  gave  a  detailed  description  of 
Solomin.  Marianna  gazed  at  NezhdanofF  for  a 
long  ....  long  .  .  .  time,  then  said,  as  if  to 
herself : 

"  Thou,  also,  hast  a  fine  face.  I  think  one 
might  live  happily  with  thee." 

This  remark  touched  Nezhdanoff ;  he  took  her 
hand  again — and  was  on  the  point  of  raising  it  to 
his  lips.  .  .  . 

"  Defer  thy  gallantries," — said  Marianna, 
laughing — she  always  laughed  when  her  hand 
was  kissed; — "  thou  dost  not  know:  I  am  guilty 
toward  thee." 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  In  this  way.  —  In  thine  absence,  I  went  into 
thy  room — and  there,  on  th}?^  table,  I  saw  a  note- 
book with  poetry.  .  .  ."  (NezhdanofF  shuddered: 
he  remembered  that  he  actually  had  forgotten 
that  note-book  on  the  table  in  his  room), — "  and 
I  make  my  confession  to  thee:  I  could  not  con- 
quer my  curiosity — and  I  read  it. — Assuredly, 
those  are  thy  verses?" 

"Yes;  and  dost  thou  know  what,  Marianna? 
The  fact  that  I  am  hardly  angry  at  all  with  thee 
may  serve  thee  as  the  best  proof  of  the  degree  to 

270 


VIRGIN   SOIL 

which  I  am  attached  to  thee,  and  to  which  I  trust 
thee." 

"  Hardly?  That  means  that  thou  art,  at  least, 
a  little  angry? — By  the  way,  thou  callest  me 
Marianna;  but  I  cannot  call  thee  NezhdanofF! 
I  will  call  thee  Alexyei.  And  the  poem  which 
begins :  '  Dear  friend,  when  I  shall  die  .  .  .  .' 
is  thine  also?  " 

"  Yes  .  .  .  yes. — Only,  please  drop  the  sub- 
ject. .  .  .  Do  not  torture  me." 

Marianna  shook  her  head. 

"  It  is  very  sad.  .  .  That  poem.  ...  I  hope 
thou  didst  write  it  before  thou  hadst  become 
close  friends  with  me.  But  the  verses  are  good, 
so  far  as  I  can  judge.  It  strikes  me,  that  thou 
mightest  become  a  literary  man,  only,  I  am  quite 
sure,  that  thy  vocation  is  something  better  and 
more  lofty  than  literature.  It  was  well  to  occupy 
thyself  with  that  before, — when  the  other  was  im- 
possible." 

NezhdanofF  darted  a  swift  glance  at  her. 

"  Dost  thou  think  so?  Well,  I  agree  with  thee. 
Better  ruin  there— than  success  here." 

Marianna  rose  impetuously  to  her  feet. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  one,  thou  art  right!  "—she  ex- 
claimed— and  her  whole  face  beamed,  lighted  up 
with  the  flame  and  the  lustre  of  enthusiasm,  with 
the  emotion  of  magnanimous  sentiments: — "thou 
art  right! — But,  perhaps  we  shall  not  go  to  de- 
struction immediately ;  we  shall  succeed,  thou  wilt 

271 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

see,  we  shall  be  of  use,  our  life  will  not  have  been 
lived  in  vain,  we  shall  go  to  the  people.  .  .  .  Dost 
thou  know  any  handicraft?  No?  Well,  never 
mind — we  will  work,  we  will  bear  to  them,  our 
brethren,  everything  which  we  know — I,  if  ne- 
cessary, will  go  as  a  cook,  as  a  seamstress,  as  a 
laundress.  .  .  .  Thou  shalt  see,  thou  shalt  see. 
....  And  there  will  be  no  merit  in  it — only 
happiness,  happiness.  .  .  ." 

Marianna  ceased  speaking;  but  her  eyes,  riv- 
eted on  the  distance,  not  on  that  which  lay  out- 
spread before  her — but  on  that  other  unknown 
one,  which  had  never  yet  existed,  but  which  she 
descried, — her  eyes  blazed.  .  .  . 

NezhdanofF  bent  to  her  waist.  .  .  . 

*'  Oh,  Marianna!  "  he  whispered, — "  I  am  not 
worthy  of  thee !  " 

She  suddenly  gave  a  violent  start. 

"  It  is  time  to  go  home— high  time  I  "—she  said, 
— "  or  they  will  be  hunting  us  up  directly.  How- 
ever, Valentina  Mikhailovna  seems  to  have 
washed  her  hands  of  me.  In  her  eyes,  I  am— a 
lost  woman! " 

Marianna  uttered  the  last  two  words  with  such 
a  bright,  joyous  face,  that  NezhdanoiF,  as  he 
looked  at  her,  could  not  help  smiling  and  repeat- 
ing—" a  lost  woman! " 

"  Only,  she  feels  deeply  insulted,"— went  on 
Marianna,  "because  thou  art  not  at  her  feet.— 
But  all  that  is  nothing— but  see  here.  .  .  Of 

272 


VIRGIN  SOIL 

course,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  remain  here  .  .  . 
I  must  run  away." 

"  Run  away?  "—repeated  NezhdanoiF. 

"  Yes,  run  away.  .  .  For,  surely,  thou  art  not 
going  to  remain? — We  will  go  away  together. 
.  .  .  Thou  wilt  go  with  me,  wilt  thou  not?  " 

"  To  the  ends  of  the  earth!  " — exclaimed  Nezh- 
danofF — and  a  certain  impulsive  gratitude  sud- 
denly rang  out  in  his  voice. — "  To  the  ends  of  the 
earth!" — At  that  moment  he  actually  would 
have  gone  away  with  her,  with  a  glance  behind 
him,  whithersoever  she  desired! 

Marianna  understood  him — and  heaved  a  gen- 
tle, blissful  sigh. 

"  Then  take  my  hand  .  .  .  only,  do  not  kiss  it 
— and  press  it  firmly,  as  a  comrade,  as  a  friend 
.  .  there,  that  's  the  way!  " 

They  walked  homeward  together,  thoughtful, 
happy, — the  young  grass  caressed  their  feet,  the 
young  foliage  rustled  round  about  them;  the 
patches  of  light  and  shadow  flitted  swiftly 
athwart  their  garments— and  they  both  smiled  at 
this  tremulous  play,  and  at  the  gay  gusts  of  wind, 
and  the  fresh  glitter  of  the  leaves— and  at  their 
own  youth,  and  at  each  other. 


273 


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